Minerva's  Manoeuvres 


Charles  Battell  Loomis 


MINERVA'S   MANEUVEES 


The  balloon,  Minerva,  a  shriek  and  a  shout. 


—  Page  402. 


Minerva's  Manoeuvres 

The  Cheerful  Facts  of  a  "  Return  to  Nature " 

By 
CHARLES  BATTELL  LOOMIS^ 

Author  of  "Cheerful  Americans," 
Etc. 

Illustrated  by  Frederic  R.  Gruger 


New  York 

A.  S.  Barnes  &  Company 
1905 


COPYRIGHT,  1905  BY 
A.  S.  BARNES  &  CO. 

Published  August,  1905 


Co 

J.  B. 


PREFACE. 

When  a  play  makes  a  tremendous  hit  the 
author  is  called  before  the  curtain  and  after 
bowing  and  allowing  his  heart  (and  his  head) 
to  swell  more  and  more,  he  generously  points 
to  the  actors  and  actresses  who  are  grouped 
around  him  as  much  as  to  say,  "They  did 
it." 

And  then  the  audience  goes  wild  at  such 
unselfishness  and  cries  of  ' '  Speech,  speech ! ' ' 
fend  the  air  and  the  author  has  arrived  at 
the  happiest  moment  of  his  life.  He  feels 
that  all  creation  was  evolved  just  for  this 
supreme  moment  and  his  knees  shake  and  (in 
a  voice  surcharged  with  emotion)  he  says 
things  that  do  not  read  well  in  print,  but 
which  rouse  the  house  to  greater  enthusiasm, 
and  he  wishes  that  William  Shakespeare 
could  have  lived  to  see  this  night,  and  goes 
home  to  dream  happy  dreams. 

Sometimes  he  can't  contain  his  speech  any 
longer  than  the  end  of  the  third  act,  and  with 
vii 


PEEFACE 

comparatively  little  applause,  and,  it  may  be, 
only  one  solitary  call  of  "Author"  (from 
his  devoted  brother  in  the  front  row)  he 
rushes  to  the  footlights  and  delivers  himself 
of  his  pent  up  eloquence.  And  then  perhaps 
the  critics  jump  on  the  piece  and  kill  it,  and 
the  next  day  he  wishes  he  hadn't  spoken. 

But  no  dramatic  author  would  think  of 
going  out  before  the  gray  asbestos  curtain 
had  been  raised  on  the  overture  to  say  to  the 
cold,  sternly  critical  audience  that  this  was 
the  proudest  moment  of  his  life  and  that  he 
hoped  the  actors  would  see  their  duty  and 
do  it.  That  would  be  considered  assurance. 

And  yet  we  writers  of — novels — do  rush 
on  before  the  first  chapter  has  been  reached 
and  sometimes  we  tell  how  it  is  going  to  end 
and  sometimes  we  give  the  names  of  the 
authorities  from  whom  we  lifted  our  central 
idea,  and  sometimes  we  strike  an  attitude  of 
timid  uncertainty  and  bespeak  the  indulgence 
of  the  reader — but  always  without  response 
of  any  kind. 

Not  a  hand,  not  a  cry  of  "Author":  noth 
ing  but  the  gray  asbestos  curtain  of  silence. 

Of  course  there  are  cases  when  a  book  runs 
viii 


PEEFACE 

into  the  "six  best  selling  class"  and  people 
get  into  the  habit  of  buying  it  and  the  habit 
is  not  broken  for  weeks  and  weeks ;  and  then, 
after  the  twentieth  edition  is  exhausted  the 
author  comes  out  with  a  "Preface  to  the 
twenty-first  edition,"  and  as  he  smells  the 
fragrance  of  the  bouquets  that  the  critics 
have  handsomely  handed  out  and  hears  the 
plaudits  of  those  who  have  thronged  to  read 
him  he  says  brokenly,  "I  thank  you.  You 
have  raised  me  from  a  point  where  I  was  liv 
ing  on  my  brother  in  the  front  row  to  a  posi 
tion  where  I  can  take  my  pick  of  motor  cars ' ' 
(Not  automobiles,  mind  you),  "and  while  I 
never  thought  of  money  while  I  was  writing 
the  book,  now  I  both  think  and  have  a  good 
deal  of  it.  Thank  you!  Thank  you!" 

But  I,  (rather  than  not  come  out  at  all) 
am  going  to  squeeze  before  the  gray  asbestos 
and  say  * '  Thank  you.  Critics,  readers ;  gen 
tle  and  otherwise,  I  thank  you  from  the  bot 
tom  of  my  heart. 

"If  there  is  anything  good  in  this  book, 
believe  me  it  is  the  characters  who  are  re 
sponsible  for  it. 

"And  let  me  take  this  occasion  to  say  that 
ix 


PEEFACE 

the  book  would  never  have  been  written  if  I 
had  not  been  encouraged  by  one  who  has  the 
faculty  of  making  a  man  do  his  best.  She 
is  here  to-night,  but  I  am  not  permitted  to 
mention  her. 

"I  have  had  great  fun  writing  'Minerva's 
Manoeuvres,'  and  this  is  really  the  proud 
est  moment  of  my  life.  (Cheers.)  My 
heroine,  Minerva,  is  a  good  girl  and  I  can 
give  her  a  fine  character  if  she  should  ever 
seek  a  place — in  your  hearts. 

' '  Thank  you !     Thank  you ! " 

(Curtain  goes  up.)  C.  B.  L. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER,  PAGE. 

I.    A  COERCED  COOK 1 

II.    MINEBVA  STUDIES  NATURE 14 

III.  AN  EAST  WIND      .     .    , 27 

IV.  A  FRIENDLY  BURGLAR 40 

V.    THE  CONSTABLE  CALLS 58 

VI.  Miss  PUSSY  TRIES  FLY-PAPER     ....  73 

VII.    MINERVA'S  PASTORAL 81 

VIII.    THE  'CORDEEN  COMES 91 

IX.     A  NAKED  SCUTTERER 108 

X.     WE  PLAN  A  CONCERT 123 

XI.  THE  HORSE  IN  THE  KITCHEN     ....  134 

XII.     "THE   SIMPLE  LIFE" 140 

XIII.  AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  FIASCO 158 

XIV.  THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY 173 

XV.     MINERVA'S  NATURE  STUDY 194 

XVI.     WHEN  THE  LAW  is  ON 206 

XVII.    THE  STORY  OF  A  PIPE 217 

XVIII.     WE  FIND  A  PIANO 225 

XIX.    TH'  OULD  SCUT 240 

XX.     A  MUSICAL  TRAMP 252 

XXI.     WE  MAKE  HAY 258 

XXII.  "DING  DONG  BELL"    ...      ....  266 

XXIII.  ELIGIBLE 276 

XXIV.  PAT  CASEY  CALLS 292 

XXV.  A  CONTINUOUS  WEEK  END     .....  299 

XXVI.  WE  INVITE  MORE  GUESTS     .....  310 

XXVII.     A  HOT  NIGHT 319 

XXVIII.     "  TRAMP'S  REST  " 333 

XXIX.     MINEBVA  AND  THE  SNAKE 339 

XXX.  A  HORSEHEAD  PERCH     ...         ....  350 

XXXI.  THE  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY    ....  361 

XXXII.     WE  Go  TO  THE  FAIR 373 

XXXIII.  CHERRY  DISPOSES    ....      ....  392 

XXXIV.  MINEBVA  SETTLES  IT 409 

xi 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  BALLOON,  MINERVA,  A  SHRIEK,  AND  A  SHOUT 

Frontispiece 

"  STEAL  AWAY  " PAGE  148 

"TH1  OULD  SCUT" "      242 

SHE  MADE  A  CROQUET  WICKET  OF  HERSELF "      858 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  COERCED  COOK. 


AT  the  last  minute  we  learned  that  the 
girl  we  had  counted  upon  to  do  our 
cooking  at  Clover  Lodge  had  scarlet 
fever,  and  as  she  was  the  only  local  girl  that 
we  could  hire — New  England  girls  prefer 
ring  to  work  in  a  "shop"  to  domestic  service 
— we  were  at  our  wits '  end. 

In  our  extremity  Mrs.  Vernon  (my  wife) 
made  a  last  appeal  to  Minerva.  She  went 
into  the  kitchen  of  our  New  York  flat  and  said, 

"Minerva,  Mamie  Logan,  the  girl  we  ex 
pected  to  have  up  at  Clover  Lodge,  has  scar 
let  fever." 

Minerva  was  blacking  the  stove  (as  I  could 
see  from  the  dining  room),  but  she  stopped 
and  turned  around  as  she  always  did  when 
her  mistress  spoke  to  her,  and  said  "  Yas'm." 

"Well,  do  you  know  what  that  means,  Mi 
nerva  I ' ' 

i 


2          MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

11  Means  she's  sick,  ma'am." 

"Yes,  but  it  also  means  that  I  haven't  any 
body  to  cook  for  me  up  there." 

"Yas'm." 

"Well,  don't  you  think  you  could  go  up  if 
we  gave  you  five  dollars  a  month  more  than 
you're  getting  now?" 

Minerva  rubbed  her  already  black  arm 
with  the  blacking  brush  in  an  absent  minded 
sort  of  way  as  she  said, 

"  'Deed  I  hate  the  country.  It's  so  dis 
mal." 

I  would  have  given  up  trying  to  get  her  to 
come  then,  as  her  tone  sounded  final  to  me, 
but  Mrs.  Vernon  caught  a  gleam  of  willing 
ness  in  her  expression,  and  she  said, 

1  i  Some  country  places  may  be  doleful,  Mi 
nerva,  but  Clover  Lodge  is  in  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  places  in  the  world,  and  there's  a 
light  kitchen  and  you  can  take  'Miss  Pussy,' 
you  know.  I'm  sure  you'll  like  it  and  the 
work  won't  be  as  hard  as  it  is  here  and 
there's  lots  of  fresh  air.  And  I'll  lend  you 
books  to  read.  If  you  won't  come  we'll  have 
to  give  up  going,  as  I  won't  take  a  stranger 
up  from  the  city." 


"Yas'm,"  said  Minerva,  turning  to  the 
stove  and  beginning  to  use  the  brush  again. 

"Well,  will  you  go,  Minerva?" 

"Yas'm." 

"Oh,  you  dear  good  thing,"  said  my  wife, 
and  I  fully  expected  her  to  hug  Minerva. 

She  came  in  to  where  I  was  finishing  my 
second  cup  of  coffee  and  said, 

"Minerva  is  a  jewel.  She's  going  up.  Do 
you  know,  in  some  ways  it's  better  than  if 
we  had  Mamie  Logan  because  Minerva  is  a 
much  better  cook  and  she  won't  have  any 
beaux  from  the  village  to  make  a  noise  in  the 
kitchen  in  the  evening — " 

"No,  but  you  may  have  to  import  beaux 
from  Thompson  Street  to  solace  her  loneli 
ness,"  said  I.  "If  I  know  the  kind  at  all, 
Minerva  will  die  one  day  away  from  New 
York." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Ethel.  "She  can't  help 
falling  in  love  with  the  view  from  the  kitchen 
windows.  That  lovely  old  purple  Mount 
Nebo." 

I  had  my  doubts  of  a  New  York  born  and 
bred  colored  cook  falling  in  love  with  any 
view  that  did  not  comprehend  a  row  of  city 


4         MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

houses  somewhere  in  its  composition,  but  I 
said  nothing.  The  doctor  had  told  me  that 
Ethel  absolutely  needed  a  long  rest  in  the 
"real  country,"  hill  country  preferred,  and 
even  if  I  had  to  go  out  and  help  Minerva  in 
the  kitchen  I  was  going  up. 

We  had  spent  a  delightful  week  at  Clover 
Lodge  the  year  before  with  the  Chauncey 
Wheelocks,  but  this  year  they  were  going  to 
Europe  and  had  proposed  our  renting  it  fur 
nished  and  had  promised  Mamie  Logan  as 
cook.  But  a  cordon  bleu  is  not  immune  from 
scarlet  fever,  as  we  had  found  to  our  vexa 
tion — although  I  doubt  if  we  felt  it  as  much 
as  Mamie  did.  She,  by  the  way,  had  actually 
liked  scenery  and  had  told  Mrs.  Vernon  that 
the  distant  old  mountain  peak  was  company 
for  her  while  she  was  washing  dishes.  But 
a  purple  peak  would  not  take  the  place  of  the 
yellow  lights  of  a  great  city  to  Minerva  and 
I  looked  forward  to  varied  experiences,  al 
though  I  said  nothing  about  my  expectations 
to  Ethel. 

I  half  expected  Minerva  to  back  out  when 
it  came  to  going,  but  she  did  not.  Possibly 
the  excitement  of  going  on  the  cars  had  some- 


A  COERCED  COOK       5 

thing  to  do  with  her  fortitude.  Possibly  the 
diversion  that  "Miss  Pussy"  afforded  made 
her  forget  that  she  was  leaving  her  beloved 
city. 

The  cat  was  a  startler  and  no  mistake. 
While  the  train  was  in  motion  she  kept  quiet, 
but  whenever  we  stopped  at  a  station  she  let 
forth  ear  splitting  shrieks,  acting  exactly  as 
if  she  were  being  tortured.  More  than  one 
non-smoking  man  sought  refuge  in  the  smok 
er  and  many  were  the  black  looks  cast  at  Mi 
nerva. 

I  was  glad  that  she  sat  behind  us,  for  I  did 
not  wish  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  affair.  As 
for  her  she  shrieked  with  laughter  every  time 
that  the  cat  shrieked  with  dismay,  and  I  felt 
that  the  cat,  though  unpleasant,  was  really 
making  our  journey  easier,  as  it  kept  Mi 
nerva  from  dwelling  upon  her  exile. 

We  took  a  branch  road  at  Springfield  and 
a  half  hour  later  we  were  in  a  wagon,  climb 
ing  the  steep  ascent  that  leads  to  Clover 
Lodge. 

The  cat,  sniffing  fresh  air  and  longing  to 
be  at  liberty,  redoubled  its  howls,  but  Mi 
nerva  no  longer  laughed.  She  looked  at  the 


6          MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

distant  hills  in  an  awed  sort  of  way  and 
sighed. 

I  sat  with  the  driver,  and  Mrs.  Vernon 
told  Minerva  interesting  bits  about  the  local 
ity  through  which  we  were  passing,  but  a 
languid  "Yas'm"  was  the  only  reply  she 
vouchsafed.  She  was  fast  falling  a  prey  to 
nostalgia. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  Clover  Lodge  there 
was  enough  to  do  to  keep  every  one  busy. 
The  frantic  cat  was  set  free  as  soon  as  we 
arrived  and  she  scudded  under  the  house  and 
we  saw  no  more  of  her  for  some  time.  I  did 
not  think  much  of  it  at  the  moment,  but  when 
after  our  somewhat  picnic  dinner  I  heard  Mi 
nerva  at  the  back  of  the  house  calling  in 
heart  breaking  tones  "Miss  Pussy,  Miss 
Pussy,  woan'  you  come  out?  Come  ou — t," 
I  realized  that  I  should  have  chained  the  cat 
in  the  kitchen.  It  might  stay  away  for  a  day 
or  two  in  order  to  express  its  contempt  for 
people  who  could  subject  it  to  such  humilia 
tion. 

I  was  enjoying  a  smoke  and  Ethel  was 
lying  down.  Oh,  what  a  blessed  relief  this 


A   COEECED   COOK  7 

was  from  the  noise  and  odours  and  bustle  of 
the  city! 

"I  can't  get  out.  Mist.  Vernon!  Mist. 
Vernon!  I  can't  get  out.  Ow." 

The  sounds  seemed  to  come  from  under  the 
kitchen.  I  side-tracked  my  peaceful 
thoughts,  laid  my  cigar  on  the  railing  of  the 
piazza  and  ran  around  to  the  kitchen  door 
and  beheld  Minerva  wedged  fast  under  the 
house.  Clover  Lodge  has  a  very  diminutive 
cellar  which  does  not  extend  as  far  as  the 
kitchen.  There  is  a  space  of  some  two  feet 
between  the  kitchen  floor  and  the  ground, 
used  as  a  receptacle  for  various  odds  and 
ends  in  the  way  of  boxes,  clothes  poles  and 
the  like,  and  our  stout  Minerva  had  attempt 
ed  to  creep  under  there  in  order  to  get  Miss 
Pussy,  whose  tell-tale  eyes  gleamed  at  her 
from  the  darkness.  She  had  failed  to  take 
into  account  the  fact  that  her  head  could  go 
where  her  body  could  not  follow  and  she  had 
become  stuck. 

"It's  all  right,  Minerva.  I'll  get  you  out. 
There's  very  little  room  for  promenading 
there.  I'll  have  to  knock  a  board  out.  I'll 
get  an  axe. ' ' 


8          MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

She  kept  up  her  groaning  and  at  last  Ethel 
was  aroused  by  it,  and,  somewhat  alarmed, 
hurried  into  the  kitchen  and  saw  the  sprawl 
ing  figure  of  Minerva  with  Clover  Lodge  on 
her  back.  The  spectacle  appealed  to  her 
sense  of  humour  and  she  retreated  to  where 
she  could  laugh. 

I  had  a  somewhat  ticklish  job  to  get  Mi 
nerva  out  unhurt.  It  was  awkward  splitting 
the  board  without  touching  her,  but  I  com 
passed  it  at  last,  although  each  stroke  of  the 
axe  was  followed  by  a  groan  from  Minerva, 
a  spit  from  the  cat  and  a  suppressed  laugh 
from  Ethel,  who  was  viewing  the  proceed 
ings  from  a  little  distance. 

When  the  board  fell  away  and  had  been 
removed,  Minerva,  like  an  alligator,  crawled 
in  a  little  farther,  so  as  to  turn  around,  and 
then  she  crawled  out  face  foremost,  leaving 
Miss  Pussy  saying  most  ungenerous  things 
there  in  the  dusk. 

"The  cat  will  come  out  in  a  while,  Mi 
nerva,"  said  I.  "Are  you  hurt?" 

Minerva  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  listen 
ing  intently. 

"What's  dem  noises?"  said  she;  "Oh,  dis 


A   COERCED    COOK  9 

ain'  no  place  for  me.  Heah  dem  moanin's 
in  de  grass." 

"Dem  moanin's  in  de  grass"  were  bull 
frogs  in  a  little  pond  not  far  away,  but  I 
dare  say  she  pictured  the  meadows  as  full  of 
people  who  had  been  enticed  from  the  city 
and  were  now  expiring  under  the  evening 
sky,  far  from  their  friends. 

I  explained  what  the  noise  was  and  she  re 
turned  to  the  kitchen,  while  I  resumed  con 
sumption  of  my  cigar  and  Ethel  returned  to 
her  room,  but  in  a  few  minutes : 

"Mis.  Vernon.  Mis.  Vernon.  Ain't  there 
no  more  lights?" 

Ethel  had  dropped  asleep,  so  I  went  out 
into  the  kitchen.  Minerva  had  lighted  two 
lamps,  and  to  me  the  kitchen  looked  like  a 
ball  room,  it  was  so  light,  but  the  dusky  maid 
from  the  Metropolis  was  seeing  New  York 
in  her  mind's  eye,  and  two  kerosene  lamps 
did  not  take  the  place  of  the  firmament  of  gas 
and  electric  lights  to  which  she  had  been  used 
all  her  life. 

"It  is  the  first  night  and  I  will  humour 
her, ' '  thought  I,  and  so  I  brought  out  a  lamp 
from  the  parlour  and  another  from  the  sit- 


10        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

ting  room.  I  had  the  light  from  my  cigar 
and  needed  no  other. 

When  all  four  lamps  had  united  to  cast 
their  radiance  upon  the  kitchen  Minerva  was 
satisfied  and  thanked  me  in  a  die-a-way  tone 
fhat,  being  interpreted,  meant ' '  Give  me  back 
New  York  with  its  crowds,  and  its  noise  and 
its  glitter  and  its  entertaining  'gentlemen' 
and  its  ice  cream  and  soda. ' '  Poor  Minerva ! 
Our  joy  and  happiness  came  from  the  very 
things  that  were  the  abomination  of  desola 
tion  to  her. 

Meanwhile  Ethel  awoke  from  her  nap  and 
came  down  stairs.  "Mercy,  how  dark  it  is. 
Why  didn't  you  light  a  lamp?  Where  are 
you,  Philip  ?" 

"I'm  out  on  the  piazza.     Come  out?" 

"No,  dear,  I  want  to  finish  that  story  of 
Mrs.  Everard  Cotes'.  I'm  fascinated  with 
it." 

"Ethel,  come  here,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  full 
of  meaning. 

She  felt  her  way  out. 

1 '  Minerva  needed  the  gleam  of  many  lights 
in  the  kitchen  and  I've  plucked  a  lamp  from 


A   COERCED    COOK  11 

every  room.  You'll  tire  your  eyes  reading. 
Come  and  sit  with  me. ' ' 

Ethel  gave  a  little  chuckle  and  sat  down 
in  the  chair  I  provided. 

"Dear,  it  will  end  by  our  becoming  her 
slaves." 

"Anything  to  keep  her,"  said  I.  "Who 
•wants  a  light  but  the  great  light  of  stars.  I 
suppose  that  to-night  on  all  this  broad  con 
tinent  there  is  no  soul  so  wretched  as  poor 
Minerva,  deprived  of  her  elevator  man  and 
the  girl  across  the  hall — and  all,  that  we  may 
live  in  comfort.  Who  are  we,  Ethel,  that  we 
should  do  this  thing?" 

"Oh,  stop  your  nonsense.  Minerva  will 
be  all  right  when  the  sun  shines." 

The  light  from  the  kitchen  window  shone 
away  down  the  hill  and  lighted  up  the  pool 
in  which  the  bull  frogs  were  "moaning." 
Above  their  chorus  we  heard  a  wail. 

"What's  that,  an  owl?" 

"No,  Ethel,  that's  a  howl.  It's  Minerva 
again. ' ' 

We  could  now  distinguish  "So  dismal!" 

' '  You  go  and  hold  her  in  your  lap  and  rock 
her  to  sleep.  I  can't,"  said  I. 


12         MIXERVA'S   MAXCEUVRES 

Ethel  sighed  herself.  It  was  becoming 
monotonous.  She  rose  and  went  into  the 
kitchen,  feeling  her  way  cautiously  through 
the  dark  sitting  room,  yet  stumbling  over  a 
foot  stool. 

It  looked  to  me  as  if  we  would  be  forced 
to  take  turns  sitting  outside  of  Minerva's 
bed-room  door,  guarding  her  against  the  hor 
rors  of  a  country  night,  but  after  a  time  Ethel 
returned  to  me  and  told  me  that  "Miss  Pus 
sy"  had  come  in  for  dinner  and  that  Minerva 
was  perfectly  happy  and  was  going  to  take 
her  to  bed  with  her. 

Soon  after  that  she  retired,  and,  being  tired 
out  with  the  labours  and  tribulations  of  the 
day.  she  slept  like  a  log  all  night,  and  we  were 
enabled  to  enjoy  our  repose  undisturbed. 

I  rose  early  next  morning  and  sang  gaily, 
and  I  sang  with  a  purpose.  It  might  disturb 
Mrs.  Yemen's  last  nap,  but  it  could  not  fail 
to  make  Minerva  realize  that  she  was  not 
alone  in  the  country,  whereas  if  she  had  risen 
first  and  had  seen  nothing  in  the  world  but 
the  great  silent  mountain  she  might  have  fled 
incontinently  to  the  city. 

When  she  came  down  to  the  kitchen,  car- 


A   COEBCED   COOK  13 

rying  the  cat  in  her  arms,  I  had  already 
started  the  fire. 

"Good  morning.,  Minerva,"  said  L  "I 
haven't  bnilt  a  kitchen  fire  since  I  was  a  small 
boy,  and  I  wanted  to  see  if  I  could  do  it.  Ex 
cellent  draught.  Did  you  sleep  well?" 


The  laconic  answer  was  in  itself  a  symp 
tom  that  she  felt  better. 

"And  the  eat  came  back?*'  said  L 

••Yas'r." 

I  left  the  kitchen  and  took  a  walk  in  the 
cool  morning  air.  All  was  well  with  the 
world.  Minerva  had  slept  and  had  learned 
that  a  night  in  the  country  was  not  fatal  and 
Miss  Pussy  had  recovered  her  equanimity. 
I  sought  for  an  appetite  in  the  pine  woods, 
and  I  found  one. 


CHAPTER  II 

MINERVA  STUDIES  NATURE. 

I  BLESSED  Heaven  for  the  lovely  day 
that  had  come  to  us.    If  it  had  been 
rainy  or  even  gray  we  should  have  had 
a  hard  time  to  keep  Minerva.    But  even  a 
hidebound  cockney  like  herself  could  tolerate 
the  sweetness  of  the  air  and  the  softness  of 
the  clouds  and  the  brightness  of  the  sun. 

Ethel  made  cake  so  that  she  could  be  in  the 
kitchen.  I  did  not  exactly  approve  of  it,  be 
cause  the  day  was  meant  to  be  spent  in  the 
open,  and  I  wanted  to  swing  hammocks  out 
in  the  pine  woods  and  read  a  new  novel  which 
had  been  recommended  to  me  as  excellent  for 
reading  aloud,  but  I  well  knew  the  wisdom  of 
getting  Minerva  started  right,  and  I  dare  say 
that  Ethel's  amiable  conversation  made  her 
forget  that  the  cook  on  the  ' '  other  side  of  the 
hall"  was  nearly  two  hundred  miles  away. 

14 


MINERVA   STUDIES   NATURE     15 

At  lunch  time,  Ethel  looked  very  much 
heated  and  worn,  and  I  said  to  myself,  ' '  Bet 
ter  me  in  the  kitchen  making  impossible  cake 
and  regaling  Minerva  with  anecdotes  than 
Ethel  neutralizing  all  the  effects  of  this  de 
licious  country  air  in  her  efforts  to  keep  our 
cook  contented."  So,  after  lunch,  I  put  up 
the  hammocks  and  then  I  insisted  on  Ethel's 
taking  her  embroidery  and  coming  out  to  the 
woods. 

' '  And  what  will  Minerva  do  1  She  is  afraid 
of  the  crickets,  and  I  dare  not  leave  her  all 
the  afternoon  alone  until  she  is  acclimated." 

"No,  of  course  she  can't  be  left.  I  didn't 
intend  her  to  be  left.  I  will  go  and  learn  how 
to  make  bread,  or,  better  still,  I  will  paint  the 
floor.  Doesn't  the  floor  need  painting?" 

"Now,  Philip,  don't  be  foolish.  Of  course 
you  can't  stay  in  the  kitchen.  It's  no  place 
for  a  man — 

"Nor  is  it  any  place  for  a  woman  who  has 
come  to  the  country  for  her  health.  And 
yet  Minerva  won't  stay  here  alone.  What's 
to  be  done?" 

Ethel  thought  a  minute  and  then  said: 

"I  have  some  plain  sewing  that  I  want 


16        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

done  and  Minerva  is  very  handy  with  her 
needle.  She  makes  all  her  own  clothes.  She 
shall  come  to  the  pine  woods  with  us  and 
sew  a  fine  seam  until  it's  time  to  start  dinner, 
and  then  we  can  go  back  to  the  house  and  sit 
on  the  piazza.  It's  not  as  pleasant  as  the 
woods,  but  we'll  be  within  ear  call." 

This  seemed  preposterous,  but  if  I  disap 
proved  and  Minerva  left,  Ethel  would  be  apt 
to  blame  me,  so  I  consented  and  we  all  went 
to  the  grove,  like  a  happy  family  of  three. 
I  read  out  loud  from  the  new  novel,  but  I 
don't  think  that  Minerva  cared  much  for  it, 
because  when  Miss  Pussy,  who  had  accompa 
nied  us,  brought  a  bird  and  laid  it  at  her  mis 
tress  '  feet,  Minerva  broke  right  into  my  read- 
ing  with: 

"Why,  Mis.  Vernon,  Miss  Pussy  has  a, 
bird,  and  it  ain't  a  sparrer  an'  it  ain't  a  ca 
nary.  What  other  kinds  is  there?" 

Then  the  reading  was  stopped  while  Ethel 
gave  a  lesson  in  ornithology  to  the  child  of 
the  city  streets.  I  did  not  mind  her  absorb 
ing  all  the  learning  she  could,  but  I  resented 
the  interruption  and  I  arose  and  walked 
away,  wondering  how  long  this  thing  was 


MINEEVA    STUDIES   NATURE     17 

going  to  last.  I  had  no  doubt  that  in  another 
week  we  would  be  giving  a  party  in  Minerva's 
honour,  and  that  we  should  take  out  a  sub 
scription  for  her  in  the  Booklovers'  seemed 
foreordained.  She  must  learn  "How  to 
Know  the  Trees,"  and  "How  to  Become  a 
True  Nature  Lover  in  Six  Lessons,"  and 
"How  to  Listen  to  Birds,"  and  particularly 
"How  to  Forget  the  City."  If  I  could  get 
her  that  book  I  would  be  willing  to  pay  almost 
any  price  for  it.  Also,  "How  to  Teach  a 
Cook  to  Depend  on  Herself  for  Her  Joys." 
This  traipsing  around  after  us  was  not  what 
I  had  expected. 

My  way  led  out  to  the  road  that  runs  be 
low  the  pine  grove,  and  I  had  barely  emerged 
from  the  wood  when  I  was  hailed  with  a 
"Well,  well,  we  are  in  luck!  Where's  the 
Missus?"  and  there  were  Harry  Farnet  and 
his  wife  Rose,  looking  lost  in  a  three  seated 
wagon  drawn  by  two  horses. 

"Where  did  you  drop  from?"  said  I,  for 
Harry  Farnet  is  a  New  Yorker  who  generally 
runs  over  to  Europe  in  the  summer. 

' '  Why,  we  're  at  South  Edgeley  for  a  couple 
of  weeks,"  said  he,  "and  the  Longleys,  who 


18        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

are  staying  at  the  Hillcrest,  told  us  you  had 
taken  a  cottage  here  for  the  summer,  and  so 
we  thought  we'd  chance  finding  you  in  and 
take  you  back  to  dine  and  spend  the  evening, 
and  then  ride  home  in  the  moonlight.  How's 
Ethel?" 

"Ethel  is  middling  well,  but  she's  playing 
nurse  girl  to  our  cook  and  it  is  wearing  on 
her  just  a  little — and  on  me  a  great  deal. ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Rose. 

"Why,  we  brought  up  Minerva,  you  know 
— the  treasure  that  we  Ve  had  for  three  win 
ters,  and  we  find  that  she  needs  a  city  setting 
to  be  a  jewel  of  the  first  water.  She  is  so 
lonesome  that  we  spend  most  of  our  time 
coddling  her.  She's  afraid  of  the  frogs  and 
moans  for  the  delights  of  Gotham." 

"Poor  thing!  Well,  she  won't  have  to 
bother  with  dinner  to-night,  so  just  give  her 
a  book — here,  give  her  this  box  of  candy. 
It's  quite  dreadful,  but  I'm  sure  she'll  like 
it,  and  it'll  keep  her  mind  off  her  troubles 
for  quite  a  while.  Jump  in  and  take  us  to 
your  house.  Is  Ethel  there?" 

"No,  we're  all  just  up  in  the  woods  above. 
I've  been  reading  to  her,  with  interruptions 


MINERVA   STUDIES   NATURE     19 

from  Minerva.  Minerva  and  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin  do  not  appear  to  be  twin  souls. 
Ethel!  Ethel!"  I  called,  and  she  answered, 
and  a  minute  later  she  came  in  view  and  was 
both  surprised  and  overjoyed  to  see  the  Far- 
nets.  Rose  and  she  went  to  school  together 
and  they  have  always  kept  up  an  intimacy. 

" Hello,  you  dear  thing!  You're  going  rid 
ing  with  us — going  to  take  dinner  with  us — 
we're  at  South  Edgeley,  and  in  the  evening 
we'll  drive  you  back." 

"Lovely!"  cried  Ethel,  enthusiastically, 
and  I  was  glad  that  the  Farnets  had  come. 
Ethel  needed  company  just  as  much  as  Mi 
nerva. 

I  heard  a  dead  limb  cracking  in  the  woods 
above,  and,  looking  up,  saw  Minerva,  her 
eyes  wide  open  and  fearful,  as  if  she  thought 
we  were  going  to  leave  her  to  perish  in  na 
ture's  solitudes.  For  Ethel  was  just  step 
ping  into  the  carriage. 

"That's  Minerva,"  said  Ethel  to  Rose. 
"Our  cook.  You  know  her,  don't  you?  Per 
fect  jewel,  but  it's  the  first  time  she  has  ever 
been  away  from  New  York,  and  she  is  very 
mournful. ' ' 


20        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"So  Philip  was  saying,"  said  Rose.  "I 
tell  him  to  give  her  a  box  of  this  dreadful 
chewing  candy.  It's  some  we  got  at  the  only 
store  in  South  Edgeley,  and  if  she  starts  a 
piece  it  will  keep  her  busy  chewing  for  an 
hour  at  least.  You're  not  afraid  to  leave 
her,  are  you?" 

"No,  I'm  not  afraid,"  said  Ethel;  "but 
I'm  afraid  she  will  be.  She's  a  hare  for  tim 
idity.  Oh,  Minerva!  we're  going  for  a  ride 
and  you  needn't  get  dinner  to-night.  We'll 
be  back  before  bed  time." 

"Go'n'  to  leave  me  alone  in  that  God-for 
saken  house  1 ' '  said  Minerva,  in  such  evident 
terror  that  Ethel  shook  her  head  at  Rose 

0 

and  said,  "I  can't  do  it.  It  would  be  heart 
less.  You  stay  here  and  dine  with  us.  We 
have  loads  of  provisions." 

1  i  No,  Mamma  will  expect  us.  We  told  her 
we  were  going  to  get  you  and  she'll  expect 
us.  Our  landlady  has  two  seats  waiting  for 
you.  You  must  come." 

Here  was  a  vexing  situation.  It  would  be 
downright  cruel  to  maroon  Minerva,  and  yet 
we  didn't  like  to  give  up  our  anticipated 
pleasure. 


MINERVA    STUDIES   NATURE     21 

There  was  more  noise  in  the  woods  and 
"Miss  Pussy"  jumped  out  of  a  tree  with  a 
chipmunk  in  her  mouth. 

"Oh,  Mis.  Vernon,  look  at  Miss  Pussy! 
She's  got  a  striped  rat.  I  never  see  sich  a 
place  for  wild  animals.  I  couldn'  no  more 
stay  alone — " 

She  paused  for  a  phrase  strong  enough, 
and  Rose  clapped  her  hands  and  said, 

"I  have  it.  Minerva  shall  be  your  maid 
and  ride  on  the  back  seat.  This  old  ark  was 
the  only  thing  we  could  get,  but  now  the  third 
seat  will  be  of  some  use." 

Miss  Pussy  dropped  the  chipmunk  at  Mi 
nerva's  feet,  and  Minerva  jumped  backward 
pretty  nearly  a  yard. 

"She's  killed  it,  Minerva.  That  chipmunk 
will  never  have  a  chance  to  hurt  you,"  said 
I  in  a  consolatory  tone.  That  reminded  me 
of  "Miss  Pussy." 

"We  can't  take  the  cat  along,"  said  I  to 
Ethel.  "When  the  cat  travels  I  prefer  to  be 
doing  something  else.  I  can  still  hear  her 
cries  on  the  train." 

"Well,  shut  her  up  in  the  house,"  said 
Harry.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "Come, 


VTVTRVA'S 


YOB  a 
said 


*E."y  tzrses  I 

jOnerra  is  geUiuft  kwmaek^s/"  said  I  to 


- 

.        .   •  •    . :    •  _-- 

. 

''  .    -  "  --.-.::-'- 


— 


~      If  r~ 


MDTEBTA   STUDIES   NAT 


~>"  r^  _^_  ~  "^5-—  _       *    •^-"*"~-1:  ~ 

i-E-  r.i- 


d>I  a>:   :^^  iae  ie 


ai  5» 

—  .  :L!  ^  in 


"  "  -       .- 


I   J  :  "    ~ 

er  the  Firaexs 
_  -  "     ;    .-••-• 


24         MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

of  the  house,  suddenly  disappeared,  there 
came  a  shriek,  and  then, 

"Oh,  Lordy,  oh  Lordy,  leggo  my  hair." 

I  thought  of  tramps,  but  Ethel,  being  a 
woman,  divined  what  had  happened  and  bade 
me  light  a  lantern  quickly.  I  rushed  to  the 
kitchen  and  lighted  it.  The  house  was  not 
on  fire,  that  was  certain.  Minerva  was  eith 
er  having  a  fit  or  an  encounter  with  a  burglar, 
for  there  was  a  sound  as  of  heavy  footfalls 
and  choking  ejaculations. 

I  seized  the  kitchen  poker,  expecting  to 
sell  my  life  at  a  bargain,  but  Ethel  looked 
at  me  commiseratingly  and  with  the  one  word 
"Bat,"  she  hurried  up  the  back  stairs. 

I  must  say  that  at  first  I  took  the  word  to 
mean  that  Minerva  had  been  imbibing  and  I 
wondered  at  Ethel's  using  so  idiomatic  an 
expression,  but  when  she  entered  the  room 
and  the  sounds  almost  immediately  stopped, 
to  be  followed  by  sobbing,  I  suddenly  divined 
what  she  meant. 

"No,  Minerva,  it  isn't  poisonous."  (More 
lessons  in  Natural  History.)  "Probably 
the  poor  thing  was  more  frightened  than  you 
are." 


MINEEVA   STUDIES   NATUEE     25 

I  did  not  think  it  at  all  likely.  At  any  rate., 
it  had  been  far  more  reticent. 

"I'll  give  you  a  screen  from  the  spare 
room  to  put  in  your  window.  It  was  at 
tracted  by  the  light.  It's  a  sort  of  mouse 
with  wings." 

' '  Striped  rats  and  mice  with  wings !  Lordy, 
the  country's  awful!" 

Poor  Minerva!  She  must  have  been  sur 
prised  to  see  that  country  horses  were  just 
like  those  of  the  city.  Certainly  a  horse  has 
more  evil  potentiality  than  a  stupid  little  bat, 
but  when  a  beast  has  you  by  the  hair  and  you 
see  him,  as  it  were,  through  the  back  of  your 
head,  he  is  apt  to  loom  large  and  terrifying. 

Quiet  was  soon  restored  and  Ethel  came 
down  with  the  lantern.  I  put  away  the  poker 
which  I  had  been  holding  ever  since  I  picked 
it  up. 

"It's  the  greatest  mercy  in  the  world  that 
the  lamp  went  out.  She  knocked  it  over 
when  the  bat  hit  her." 

"What  next?  Is  the  room  moth  miller 
proof?  Could  she  survive  a  June  bug?" 

"Well,  really,  it's  nothing  to  laugh  at.    If 


26        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

you  ever  have  a  bat  in  your  back  hair  you'll 
not  think  of  laughing. ' ' 

As  my  back  hair  is  fast  going  to  join  the 
snows  of  yesteryear,  I  considered  this  a  most 
unkind  cut,  but  I  was  above  retaliating — as 
I  could  not  think  of  anything  to  say. 

'  *  Well,  Minerva  has  now  been  here  a  whole 
day  and  she's  hardly  been  out  of  our  sight. 
I  admit  that  she  is  an  excellent  cook  and  a 
hard  worker,  but  as  a  steady  visitor  who, 
rides  with  us  and  sews  with  us  she  is  likely 
to  pall.  Hasn't  she  a  mother  who  can  come 
and  visit  her!" 

"No,"  Ethel  answered,  ''Minerva  is  an 
only  child." 

"And  a  child  only,"  said  I. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN  EAST  WIND. 

THE  next  morning  broke  with  an  east 
wind  blowing  and  a  wet  rain  falling, 
but  Ethel  said  that  the  two  days  in  the 
country  had  made  her  feel  like  a  different 
woman  already,  so  I  did  not  mind  the  rain, 
although  a  rainy  day  in  the  country,  unless 
one  be  well  fortified,  either  by  inner  grace 
or  outer  books  and  the  good  things  of  life,  is 
apt  to  be  a  dreary  affair. 

Breakfast  was  delicious.  We  have  never 
had  a  cook  who  had  so  much — well,  you  might 
call  it  temperament,  as  Minerva  has.  She 
will  toss  off  a  roll  with  the  lightness  that 
makes  it  a  work  of  art,  and  her  fried  chicken 
is  better  than  the  broiled  chicken  of  most 
cooks. 

Ethel  already  better,  and  the  breakfast 
such  a  poem :  why,  I  felt  that  I  was  to  be  en 
vied,  and  I  wondered  how  people  could  be 

27. 


28        MINERVA'S  MANCBUVEES 

content  to  spend  their  summers  on  alien  piaz 
zas,  eating  hotel  dinners  and  watching  hotel 
dwellers  dress  and  pose  and  gossip. 

There  had  been  no  more  bats  in  Minerva's 
belfry,  and  as  she  had  always  seemed  like  a 
sensible  girl  in  the  city,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  she  was  reconciled  to  the  country  and 
that  in  a  few  days  she  would  begin  to  have 
very  much  the  same  feeling  for  it  that  we 
have — for  Ethel  and  I  were  born  in  the  city, 
and  the  country  is  an  acquired  taste  with  us. 

But  while  I  was  browsing  around  in  the 
Wheelocks'  library,  Ethel  came  to  me  and 
said: 

"The  worst  has  happened,  Philip.  Mi 
nerva  says  she  won't  stay — that  she  just 
can't.  She  wants  you  to  get  a  horse  and 
take  her  to  the  station  right  away." 

I  laid  down  my  book  with  a  sigh.  ' '  What 's 
the  matter  now?"  said  I.  "More  wild  ani 
mals?" 

"No,  it's  the  rain  and  the  east  wind.  She 
says  the  moaning  of  it  through  the  shutters 
is  awful  and  she  can't  stand  it." 

"Might  have  known  it,"  said  I,  bitterly. 
"I  might  have  known  it.  You're  beginning 


AN   EAST   WIND  29 

to  feel  better  and  the  worst  seems  to  be  over, 
and  then  Minerva  plays  her  trump  card  and 
takes  the  cake." 

My  metaphors  were  sadly  mixed,  but  I 
didn't  care.  I  was  not  at  that  moment  trying 
to  construct  logical  metaphors.  I  foresaw 
what  would  happen  if  Minerva  left  and  Ethel 
went  into  the  kitchen  permanently.  A  sani 
tarium  for  her  and  I  an  enforced  bachelor 
in  some  city  room — for  we  had  let  our  flat 
for  the  summer. 

I  do  not  often  interfere  with  the  household 
work,  for  my  business  keeps  me  at  home 
most  of  the  time,  and  I  hold  that  when  man 
and  wife  are  both  at  home  it  is  better  to  have 
but  one  housekeeper  and  that  one  a  woman, 
but  now  I  went  out  into  the  kitchen  to  try  to 
mend  matters,  and  I  found  Minerva  looking 
at  the  steadily  falling  rain  that  was  making 
Mount  Nebo  look  like  a  ghost  of  itself.  Now 
and  again  the  blind  rattled  and  always  the 
wind  moaned  through  it  with  a  wintry  effect 
that  would  have  been  admirably  adapted  to 
the  return  of  the  prodigal  daughter. 

And  with  each  wail  of  the  wind  Minerva 


30        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

answered  antiphonally,  almost  as  if  she  were 
taking  lessons  in  keening. 

"Oh,  myomy,  myomy!" 

Back  and  forth  she  rocked,  her  eyes  glued 
to  the  dismal  prospect  (dismal  to  her,  but 
with  a  surpassing  beauty  to  sympathetic 
eyes),  and  the  tears  rolling  down  her  face. 

"Why,  Minerva,  what's  the  matter?  Got 
a  toothache?"  said  I,  affecting  to  be  unwit 
ting  of  the  cause  of  her  sorrow. 

"  'Deed,  suh,  it's  wuss'n  a  toothache.  It's 
the  heartache.  I  knowed  better  when  I  said 
I  'd  come.  Nance  Jawnson  told  me  how  haw  '- 
ble  the  country  was,  but  I  felt  sorry  for  Mis. 
Vernon,  and  so  I  come.  Please  get  me  away 
in  a  wagon.  That  wind  whines  like  it  was  a 
dawg  howlin'  an'  I  can't  stand  dawgs  howl- 
in'  'cause  my  sisteh  died  of  one." 

Her  words  were  ambiguous,  but  I  was  in 
no  mood  to  carp  or  criticise.  She  was  suf 
fering  as  acutely  as  a  little  child  suffers 
when  you  throw  her  doll  over  the  fence  and 
I  felt  I  must  cheer  her  up  and  keep  her  if  it 
— if  it  took  all  summer. 

"Well,  Minerva,  we  can  soon  stop  the 
wind's  howling  by  opening  the  blinds."  I 


AN   EAST   WIND  31 

suited  the  action  to  the  words  and  the  wild 
moaning  of  the  wind  ceased.  It  was  really 
almost  as  if  the  wind  had  been  asking  to  have 
the  blinds  opened. 

"Now  you  see,  Minerva,  that's  stopped 
and  the  rain  will  stop  after  awhile." 

"Yas'r,  but  it's  lonesome  an'  I  didn't 
bring  my  'cordeen.  I  forgot  it  till  now." 

I  knew  she  was  a  great  hand  to  be  trying 
patent  medicines  and  supposed  she  referred 
to  some  bottled  stuff,  so  I  said, 

' '  Oh,  well,  if  that 's  all,  I  can  send  for  your 
medicine,  or  perhaps  I  can  get  some  at  Eger- 
ton." 

She  looked  at  me  in  surprise  as  she  said, 

"I  didn'  say  nothin'  'bout  med'cine.  I 
said  I  left  my  'cordeen — " 

"Oh,  your  accordeon.  Can  you  play 
that?"  said  I,  thankful  that  she  had  forgot 
ten  it. 

"Yes  indeedy." 

Her  face  grew  pensive  as  she  thought  of 
the  dreadful  musical  instrument  which  she 
had  mercifully  forgotten.  I  had  never  heard 
her  use  it  at  home,  but  Ethel  told  me  after 
ward  that  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  going 


32        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

up  on  the  roof  with,  other  cooks  and  the  jani 
tor,  and  that  her  departure  was  always  fol 
lowed  by  weird  strains  which  Ethel  had  sup 
posed  was  the  janitor  discoursing  music  that 
had  the  dyingest  fall  of  anything  ever  heard. 
But  it  seems  that  Minerva  was  the  performer, 
and  among  those  whose  ears  are  ravished  by 
the  "linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out" — and 
then  pushed  back  again,  she  was  accounted 
an  adept. 

Perhaps  I  could  hold  her  by  means  of  the 
accordeon.  It  was  worth  trying. 

"Minerva,"  said  I,  "Mrs.  Vernon  tells  me 
that  you  want  me  to  drive  you  down  to  the 
station  and  get  you  a  ticket  for  New  York. 
Now,  if  you  go  it  will  be  a  discreditable  per 
formance  and  an  act  unworthy  of  one  who 
has  always  been  well  treated. ' ' 

I  paused.  The  words  were  some  of  them 
a  little  beyond  her,  but  they  had  made  the 
more  impression  for  that  very  fact. 

"Mrs.  Vernon  is  not  strong  enough  to  do 
the  work  and  she  came  up  here  to  gain 
strength.  You  are  a  very  good  cook,  but  if 
you  left  us  now  we  would  not  care  to  have 
you  when  we  returned  to  the  city,  and  you 


AN   EAST   WIND  33 

will  not  find  mistresses  like  Mrs.  Vernon 
everywhere.  There  are  those  who  forget 
that  a  servant  is  a  human  being,  and  you 
might  happen  to  get  such  a  mistress  as  that. 
I  repeat  that  your  going  would  be  distinctly 
discreditable,  utterly  reprehensible  and  in 
the  nature  of  a  bad  act.  Now,  if  you  must 
go,  I  am  not  the  one  to  keep  you,  but  if  you 
go  you  go  for  good,  which  is  not  likely  to  be 
good  for  you." 

"Yas'r,"  said  Minerva,  blinking  at  me. 

"Now,  if  I  send  for  your  accordeon,  will 
you  give  me  your  word  of  honour  to  stay 
your  month  out?" 

I  had  used  such  a  severe  tone,  mingled 
with  what  sorrow  I  could  weave  into  it,  and 
spotted  with  incomprehensible  words,  that 
Minerva  was  much  impressed,  and  she  said 
in  a  tone  that  was  already  more  hopeful,  "I 
give  you  my  word,  Mist.  Vernon.  My  'cor- 
deen  is  like  human  folks  to  me." 

"Very  well,  I  will  write  for  it  by  the  next 
mail.  Where  shall  I  tell  Mr.  Corson  to  look 
for  it?" 

"Mr.  Corson  ain't  got  it.  I  lent  it  to  the 
jan'ter  the  night  befo'  I  lef '  an'  he  fo'got  to 


34        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

give  it  back  an'  I  fo'got  about  it  till  the  wind 
began  to  moan  at  me  an '  then  I  got  mo '  home 
sick  'an  ever  an'  thought  of  it." 

Think  of  being  willing  to  swap  the  music 
of  the  wind  for  the  cacophony  of  an  accor- 
deon !  And  yet,  when  some  composer  of  the 
future  introduces  one  in  his  Afro-American 
symphony  and  Felix  Weingartner  gives  the 
symphony  in  Carnegie  Hall,  there  may  come 
a  rage  for  accordeons  and  we  shall  no  longer 
associate  them  with  tenement  houses  and 
itinerant  toughs,  white  and  black. 

I  hastened  to  write  the  letter  to  the  janitor, 
whose  name  was  George  W.  Calhoun  Lee, 
and  Ethel,  being  housebound  anyway,  went 
into  the  kitchen  to  preserve  some  blueberries. 
I  do  not  like  preserved  blueberries;  neither 
does  she,  but  there  was  nothing  else  she  could 
think  of  to  do  in  the  kitchen,  and  Minerva 
needed  * '  human  folks ' '  pending  the  arrival  of 
the  'cordeen. 

The  Dalton  boy  came  for  the  mail  at  noon 
and  he  had  with  him  a  string  of  trout.  They 
were  fresh  from  the  brook  and  were  still 
wriggling.  I  saw  him  pass  into  the  house, 
and  I  followed  him  into  the  kitchen;  for  a 


AN   EAST   WIND  35 

string  of  trout  is  a  joy  to  the  eye — and  I  had 
a  suspicion  that  Minerva  would  not  know 
what  to  do  with  them. 

She  stared  at  them  with  the  interest  of  a 
child,  giggling  every  time  one  twitched  its 
tail 

"Wha'  makes  'em  move  that  way?"  asked 
she  of  no  one  in  particular. 

''Why,  they're  not  dead  yet,"  I  answered. 

"An'  come  all  the  way  from  New  York?" 

"Why,  Minerva,  these  were  caught  in  the 
brook  down  there  in  the  valley.  Weren't 
they,  Bert?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Ketched  all  five  inside  an 
hour." 

Minerva's  eyes  opened  wider.  "What's  a 
nower?"  asked  she. 

Bert  looked  puzzled  and  so  did  Ethel,  but 
I  was  able  to  explain  and  somehow  the  ex 
planation  struck  Minerva  as  being  very  fun 
ny.  She  went  off  into  a  fit  of  laughter  just 
like  those  she  had  had  on  the  train  when  the 
cat  howled. 

"Inside  a  nower.  That's  one  awn  me. 
Inside  an  hour." 

Ordinarily  one  does  not  go  into  the  kitchen 


36       MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  provide  amusement  for  the  cook,  but  the 
events  of  the  past  few  hours  had  so  altered 
the  complexion  of  things  that  I  felt  distinctly 
elated  at  having,  in  however  humble  a  way, 
ministered  to  the  joy  of  one  as  leaden  heart 
ed  as  Minerva  and  her  laughter  was  so  unc- 
tious,  once  it  had  got  fairly  started  that  first 
the  Dalton  boy,  then  Ethel,  and  at  last  I 
joined  in  and  the  east  wind  must  have  been 
astonished  at  his  lack  of  power  over  our 
temperaments. 

After  the  laughter  had  subsided  and  Bert 
had  gone  on  his  way  with  the  precious  letter 
to  G.  W.  C.  Lee,  I  was  about  to  leave  the 
kitchen,  forgetful  of  my  errand,  when  Mi 
nerva,  in  a  tone  of  delightful  camaraderie, 
said, 

"Mist.  Vernon,  I  can't  skin  them  fishes 
alive.  They  always  come  skinned  from  the 
fish  store." 

"Well,  I'll  kill  them  and  scale  them  and 
clean  them,  and  you  can  watch  me,  and  the 
next  time  you'll  know  how." 

Ethel  had  finished  her  berry  canning  and 
she  now  left  the  kitchen,  winking  at  me  as 
she  did  so  as  much  as  to  say  it  was  now  my 


AN   EAST   WIND  37 

turn  at  the  wheel.  It  was  years  since  I  had 
dressed  a  fish,  but  I  snapped  each  one  on  the 
head  as  I  had  been  taught  to  do  by  country 
boys  in  my  own  boyhood,  and  then  I  prepared 
them  for  the  pan,  scraping  off  much  of  their 
beauty  in  the  process. 

"Do  they  have  North  River  shad  out  in 
that  brook?"  asked  Minerva  as  I  worked. 

I  thought  at  first  it  was  a  little  pleasantry, 
but,  looking  at  her,  I  saw  she  was  perfectly 
serious — in  fact,  very  serious,  and  I  ex 
plained  to  her  that  cod  and  blue  fish  and  stur 
geon  and  sword  fish  never  penetrated  to  these 
mountain  brooks,  preferring  the  sea ;  and  so, 
with  cheerful  chat  on  both  our  parts,  we 
bridged  over  the  end  of  the  morning  and  a 
half  a  day  was  gone  with  Minerva  in  a  better 
frame  of  mind  than  she  had  been  the  day  be 
fore  with  the  sun  shining.  So  valuable  a 
thing  is  diplomacy. 

While  I  was  washing  my  hands,  prepara 
tory  to  lunch,  Ethel  being  engaged  in  fixing 
her  hair,  I  heard  Minerva  break  out  into 
song,  and  a  moment  later  someone  began  to 
whistle  in  the  kitchen. 

Our  window  commanded  a  view  of  the  side 


38        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

path,  and  no  one  had  entered  the  kitchen 
since  I  had  left  it,  but  nevertheless  two  peo 
ple  were  giving  a  somewhat  unpleasant  duet 
in  the  kitchen.  The  whistle  did  not  accord 
with  the  voice,  which  had  considerable  of  the 
natural  coloured  flavour — if  flavour  can  have 
colour. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  said  I.  "Minerva 
doesn't  know  a  soul  up  here,  and  no  one  up 
here  would  be  apt  to  know  'In  the  Good  Old 
Summer  Time.' 

"It's  positively  uncanny,"  said  Ethel,  tak 
ing  the  last  hair  pin  out  of  her  mouth  and 
putting  it  into  her  hair.  "I'm  going  to  see. 
I  want  Minerva  to  make  chocolate  for  lunch, 
and  I  forgot  to  tell  her." 

Ethel  went  down  and  I  hastily  dried  my 
hands  and  followed.  If  this  fellow  musician 
could  be  caged  I  would  keep  him  for  Miner 
va's  delectation.  He"  should  hang  in  the 
kitchen — so  to  speak.  Minerva  was  evident 
ly  enjoying  the  duet — even  more  than  we 
were. 

I  hurried  and  came  within  sight  of  the 
kitchen  just  as  Ethel  entered  it.  Ethel 
turned  and  came  quickly  toward  me,  her 


AN   EAST   WIND  39 

hand  over  her  mouth  to  pen  up  her  mirth. 

We  both  rushed  up  stairs  and  sat  down 
and  had  our  second  laugh  of  the  morning  in 
spite  of  the  east  wind.  There  was  only  one 
person  in  the  kitchen,  Minerva  by  name,  and 
she  was  providing  an  obligato  for  her  singing 
with  her  own  lips.  Minerva  was  performing 
the  hitherto  impossible  feat  of  singing  and 
whistling  at  the  same  time. 

"When  the  'cordeen  comes,"  said  Ethel, 
"Minerva  will  be  a  trio." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  FRIENDLY  BURGLAR. 

WE  retired  that  night  feeling  that  our 
hold  on  Minerva  was  stronger  than 
it  had  been  hitherto,  and  we  slept 
the  sleep  of  the  unworried. 

But  we  were  awakened  at  a  little  past  mid 
night  by  a  noise  as  of  a  somewhat  heavy  cat 
coming  up  stairs.  Miss  Pussy  is  heavy,  but 
her  tread  is  absolutely  noiseless,  so  it  could 
not  be  she,  and  we  could  hear  Minerva  snor 
ing  in  her  room,  so  it  was  not  she. 

"It's  a  burglar,"  whispered  Ethel,  wide 
awake  in  an  instant. 

I  did  not  like  the  thought,  which  waked  me 
wide  also.  I  like  burglars  in  books,  but  in 
real  life  there  are  too  many  possibilities 
wrapped  up  in  them  to  make  them  agreeable 
companions  of  the  night. 

I  hope  I  am  not  a  coward,  but  I  am  not  war 
like.  If  a  burglar  has  resolved  on  entering 

40 


A   FEIENDLY   BUEGLAE          41 

my  house  I  say  let  him  get  away  with  the 
goods  and  then  I'll  lose  no  time  in  putting 
in  burglar  alarms  so  as  to  be  prepared  there 
after,  but  to  get  up  and  attack  a  burglar  with 
a  chair  or  to  attempt  to  expostulate  with  him 
lies  outside  of  my  province,  and  I  hoped  that 
these  sounds  would  prove  to  be  caused  by 
shrinking  wood  or  cracking  plaster. 

Creak,  creak,  creak.  There  was  not  a 
shadow  of  a  doubt  that  some  one  was  coming 
up  the  stairs.  Ethel  pulled  the  pillow  over 
her  face  and  I  could  feel  her  trembling.  I 
sat  up  in  bed  and  tried  to  feel  brave.  Tried 
it  two  or  three  times  in  obedience  to  the  old 
saying  anent  succeeding  but  to  be  honest  I 
did  not  feel  brave. 

The  steps  came  nearer  and  Ethel,  whose 
hearing  is  wonderfully  acute,  suddenly  threw 
off  the  pillow,  and  sat  up  in  bed  also,  saying : 

' '  Philip,  we  must  not  let  Minerva  hear  him 
or  she  will  leave  in  the  morning. ' ' 

"Sh!"  said  I,  "be  still.  There  he  is." 
We  both  put  on  the  semblance  of  slumber. 

The  moon  was  shining  into  the  room  and 
we  now  saw  a  burly  looking  fellow  with  a  bag 


42        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

over  his  shoulder  walk  past  our  door  and 
peer  into  the  spare  room. 

The  Wheelock  furnishings  are  plain  and 
our  own  belongings  would  pack  in  small  space 
and  bring  little  in  open  market  and  it  struck 
both  Ethel  and  myself  in  spite  of  our  fears 
that  it  was  very  funny  for  a  burglar  to  be 
looking  for  plunder  in  our  cottage. 

I  fancy  that  he  himself  saw  he  had  picked 
out  a  poor  house,  for  he  left  the  spare  room, 
contented  himself  with  a  casual  glance  into 
our  sparsely  furnished  bedroom  and  then 
went  creaking  down  the  stairs  again.  Bur 
glars  in  books  make  no  noise,  but  I  am  sure 
I  could  have  gone  down  stairs  more  quietly 
than  he  did  and  I  was  in  an  agony  of  fear — 
no  longer  of  him  but  that  Minerva  might 
wake  up  and  become  panic  stricken. 

The  burglar  went  as  far  as  the  kitchen  and 
then  he  actually  stumbled  over  a  chair  and 
this  brought  about  the  dreaded  result. 
Minerva  waked  up  and  the  next  instant  we 
heard  a  husky, 

"Is  that  you,  Mis.  Vernon!" 

Next  we  heard  steps  in  her  hall  and  the 
query  repeated  in  a  louder  tone, 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          43 

"Is  that  you,  Mis.  Vernon?" 

Then  came  a  shriek.  She  had  evidently 
encountered  the  burglar 

"Oh,  Philip,  what  shall  we  do?"  said  Ethel. 
"Don't  you  think  it  will  be  safe  to  go  and 
tell  the  burglar  to  go  away?  Minerva  will 
surely  go  into  hysterics  and  leave  in  the 
morning." 

' '  She 's  gone  there  now.    Hear  her ! ' ' 

The  noise  occasioned  by  the  advent  of  the 
bat  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the  din  that 
Minerva  let  out  upon  the  midnight  air. 

And  now  we  heard  a  man's  voice,  the  voice 
of  the  burglar. 

"Be  quiet.  I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you.  I 
made  a  mistake  in  the  house." 

Made  a  mistake  in  the  house  and  the  next 
one  half  a  mile  away! 

* '  Philip,  if  he  were  a  dangerous  burglar  he 
would  have  shot  her  by  this.  Go  and  speak 
to  him  and  tell  him  to  go  away." 

It  was  a  risky  proceeding,  but  after  all  we 
had  gone  through  I  was  determined  to  keep 
Minerva  with  us  at  any  risk,  so  pulling  a 
dressing  gown  over  my  pajamas  and  leaping 


44        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

into  my  slippers,  I  went  down  stairs  choking 
down  my  rising  heart. 

I  met  the  burglar  coming  down  the  back 
stairs  with  his  hands  in  his  ears  to  shut  out 
the  shrieks  that  arose  from  Minerva. 

When  he  saw  me  he  sat  down  on  the  stairs 
and  said,  "I  thought  so.  I  thought  she'd 
waken  the  house." 

Now  this  was  a  queer  way  for  a  burglar  to 
act  and  it  gave  me  heart.  By  all  the  rules 

of  burglary  the  man  should  either  have  given 
me  one  in  the  jaw  or  a  bit  of  lead  in  the  lung 
or  else  he  should  have  rushed  past  me  and 
escaped,  but  he  sat  down  on  the  top  step  and 
reminded  me  of  Francis  Wilson  by  the 
quaintness,  of  his  intonation  and  the  expres 
sion  that  came  over  his  face. 

"Come  here.  I  won't  hurt  you,"  said  I, 
much  as  I  might  talk  to  a  huge  mastiff  whose 
intentions  were  problematical.  "Are  you  a 
family  man?" 

*  *  Yes, ' '  said  he,  astonished  by  the  question 
into  answering  it. 

"Well,  then,  you  will  understand  my  po 
sition  when  I  tell  you  that  the  girl  whom 
you  have  started  into  hysterics  up  there  is 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          45 

our  cook,  our  only  cook,  and  if  we  lose  her 
we'll  be  absolutely  cookless.  You're  a  bur 
glar,  are  you  not?  Be  frank." 

''Well,  if  you  appeal  to  me  that  way,  I 
am,"  said  he. 

* '  Well,  she 's  frightened  stiff.  Even  if  you 
go  away  now  and  nothing  further  happens 
she  will  follow  in  the  morning  because  she 
will  expect  burglars  every  night.  Now  I'm 
going  to  try  to  convince  her  that  you  stopped 
in  here  to  ask  the  way  to  the  village  or  to 
borrow  a  book — anything  but  that  you're  a 
burglar,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  out. ' ' 

"The  idea  is  farcical,"  said  he  smiling 
quite  as  if  we  were  having  a  friendly  chat 
after  a  dinner  in  his  honour. 

"No  doubt  it  is  farcical,"  said  I,  "but  if 
I  can  overcome  Minerva's  fears  by  any  means 
I'm  going  to  do  it.  She'll  go  into  a  fit  pretty 
soon  if  the  cause  is  not  removed." 

"She's  most  there  now,"  said  the  burglar. 
And  he  told  the  truth.  Minerva  had  not 
ceased  to  use  each  breath  in  the  manufacture 
of  wild  yawps  that  outdid  her  performances 
the  evening  of  the  bat. 

"I'll  go  and  tell  her  to  dress  and  come 


46        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

down  and  I'll  explain  it  all  to  her.  We  have 
to  handle  her  with  gloves  on  account  of  cooks 
being  so  scarce.  You  understand?" 

"I  understand.  I  have  a  little  home  in 
Pittsfield  and  half  the  time  my  wife  does  the 
cooking  although  'business'  is  unusually 
good. ' ' 

"What  is  your  busin — ?" 

I  noticed  his  bag  and  stopped.  How  ab 
sent  minded  of  me  to  ask. 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  always  as  bad  as  it  is 
to-night,"  said  I  with  a  laugh.  "My  income 
doesn't  admit  of  anything  for  burglars.  I 
only  make  enough  for  myself  and  my  wife. ' ' 

"I  believe  you,"  said  he.  "I  saw  that 
when  I  got  up  stairs  and  if  I  had  not  kicked 
over  that  cursed  chair  I  would  have  been  a 
mile  away  by  now. ' ' 

I  started  to  call  up  stairs  to  Minerva  when 
the  burglar's  eyes  moved  to  a  point  behind 
me  and  turning,  I  saw  Ethel,  fully  dressed 
and  very  calm.  Her  fear  of  losing  Minerva 
had  overcome  her  fear  of  the  burglar  and  she 
had  come  down  to  see  what  she  could  do. 

"Ethel,  this  is  the  burglar  who  woke  us 
up,  but  he  has  taken  nothing,  and  he's  going 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          47 

to  fib  a  little  so  that  Minerva  may  be  brought 
out  of  her  hysterical  state.  Please  go  up 
stairs  and  tell  her  to  dress  and  come  down;, 
that  there's  no  danger,  but  I  want  to  see  her 
about  something." 

With  excitement  and  amusement  struggling 
for  the  mastery  on  her  features  Ethel  went 
up  stairs  and  in  a  few  moments  the  shrieks 
subsided. 

* '  What  induced  you  to  come  to  such  a  place 
as  this,  so  far  off  the  line  of  travel  1 ' ' 

"Exactly  that,"  said  the  burglar,  "because 
it  was  off  the  line  of  travel  and  because  I 
have  made  some  of  my  richest  hauls  in  houses 
like  this." 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  to  be  a  burglar?" 
said  I,  thinking  that  I  might  do  some  mis 
sionary  work. 

"Now  see  here,"  said  he,  rising  from  the 
chair  in  which  he  had  seated  himself  after 
Ethel  had  gone  up  stairs,  "I  did  not  come 
here  to  be  catechised  or  criticised.  I  came 
here  to  do  business  and  I  found  it  was  im 
possible,  so  let  us  forget  that  I  am  a  burglar 
and  that  you  are  a  poor  man  and  bend  all 
our  energies  to  retaining  the  services  of  your 


48        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

cook.  As  a  fellow  American  I  feel  for  you 
and  I'd  hate  to  see  'the  Madame'  forced  to 
do  her  own  cooking  through  any  fault  of 
mine.  By  the  way,  how 's  the  larder  1 ' ' 

"The  who?" 

"The  larder.    What  have  you  to  eat?" 

"Oh,  I  misunderstood  you.  I  guess  I  can 
find  something  to  eat.  Are  you  fond  of  blue 
berries — not  whortleberries,  you  understand, 
but  blueberries." 

"All  the  same,  ain't  they?" 

"Not  by  a  long  shot.  You're  evidently  a 
city  man.  A  blueberry  is  to  a  whortleberry 
what  a  wild  cherry  is  to  an  oxheart.  We 
have  plenty  of  blueberries  and  some  milk  and 
I  dare  say  Minerva  can  boil  you  some  eggs 
if  you  care  for  them. ' ' 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  bother  you  or  her. 
Cooks  object  to  getting  extra  meals." 

I  had  not  thought  of  that  and  I  deemed  it 
considerate  in  the  burglar. 

I  led  the  way  to  the  pantry,  where  I  found 
a  pitcher  of  rich  milk  and  a  pan  of  berries 
and  when  Mrs.  Vernon  and  Minerva  came 
down  stairs,  the  burglar  and  I  sat  at  the 


A   FRIENDLY   BUEGLAE          49 

dinner  table,  eating  berries  like  the  best  of 
friends. 

"Frightened,  Minerva?"  asked  I  with  a 
reassuring  smile. ' ' 

"Yas'r,"  was  the  monosyllabic  and  there 
fore  reassuring  reply. 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  disturbed  you,  Minerva," 
said  the  burglar  with  an  assumption  of 
breeziness  that  sat  very  well  on  him. 

Minerva  smiled  foolishly.  She  was 
abashed. 

"I  missed  my  way,  Tom,"  said  he,  turning 
to  me,  ' '  and  it 's  a  wonder  I  got  here  at  all. ' ' 

' '  Will  you  please  explain  why  you  call  me 
Tom,"  said  I,  giving  him  a  cue,  "when  my 
name  is  Philip  Vernon. ' ' 

"Simply  because  I've  been  spending  a 
week  with  Tom,"  said  he,  "and  he  is  very 
well  indeed." 

"Hasn't  he  had  any  return  of  those 
spells?"  asked  I  with  mock  concern. 

"No,  Phil,  Tom  seems  to  be  on  the  high 
road  to  recovery,  now.  His  wife  has  a  Dane 
for  a  cook  and  she  makes  the  best  omelets 
I  ever  ate.  Can  you  make  good  omelets?" 
said  he,  turning  to  Minerva,  whose  eyes  were 


50        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

riveted  on  this  easy  mannered  friend  who 
had  reached  our  house  so  late. 

"Yas'r." 

"Pardon  my  suggesting  it,  Mrs.  Vernon," 
said  he,  turning  to  my  wife,  "but  would  it  be 
asking  too  much — " 

"Why,  I'm  sure  Minerva  would  be  de 
lighted  to  cook  you  an  omelet.  She  knows 
what  it  is  to  be  hungry.  Don't  you 
Minerva?" 

"Yas'm,"  said  she,  going  into  the  kitchen 
and  setting  a  match  to  the  fire  which  was  laid 
in  preparation  for  the  morning. 

"She  looks  like  a  good  natured  girl — one 
who  would  stick  to  you  through  thick  and 
thin,"  said  the  burglar  in  a  tone  that  would 
easily  reach  Minerva's  ears. 

"Minerva's  a  very  good  girl,"  said  Ethel, 
sitting  down  in  the  chair  I  had  drawn  up 
to  the  table. 

We  talked  on  various  topics,  much  as  if  we 
had  known  each  other  for  years,  but  this 
was  due  more  to  the  burglar's  absolute  ease 
of  manner  than  to  any  self  command  on  our 
parts.  When  Minerva  came  in  with  a  smok 
ing,  hot  omelet  he  said, 


51 

' '  Handsomest  omelet  I  ever  saw.  If  it 
tastes  like  that  I'll  eat  every  bit  myself. 
You're  a  born  cook,  Minerva." 

Minerva  grinned  and  went  into  the  pantry 
whence  she  emerged  with  bread  and  butter. 

As  for  the  burglar  he  kept  up  a  running 
fire  of  talk  about  supposed  friends  of  ours. 

" Bather  sad,  that  accident  to  Tom's 
nephew,  wasn't  it?"  said  he. 

"I  hadn't  heard  of  it,"  said  Ethel,  while  I 
admitted  a  like  ignorance. 

"Is  that  so?  Tom  is  no  letter  writer. 
Why  little  Sanderson  fell  down  an  elevator 
shaft  and  ripped  all  the  buttons  off  his 
shoes." 

He  said  this  so  seriously  that  it  was  all 
Ethel  could  do  to  keep  a  straight  face. 

"And  Mary  has  finally  decided  to  accept 
Jim  Larkins.  Seventeen  times  she  had  re 
jected  him.  Do  you  think  they'll  be  happy?" 

"I  hope  they  will,"  said  I,  and  then  to 
make  conversation  I  said, 

"What's  become  of  Ed.  Cortelyou?" 

"I'm  sorry  to  say,"  said  the  burglar,  with 
a  long  face,  "  that  Ed.'s  gone  to  the  bad. 
It  doesn't  pay  to  trust  a  young  man  with 


52        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

unlimited  money.  If  I  ever  succeed  in 
amassing  a  fortune — not  that  I  feel  espe 
cially  encouraged  just  now — but  if  I  ever  do, 
I  will  tie  it  up  so  that  Charley  can  not  play 
ducks  and  drakes  with  it." 

"By  the  way,  do  you  expect  Charley  to 
follow  your  profession?"  said  Ethel  wickedly 
and  unexpectedly. 

The  burglar  helped  himself  to  the  rest 
of  the  omelet  with  a  roguish  grin  and  said, 

"I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised.  Kate  is 
all  for  having  him  study  for  the  ministry, 
but  I've  seen  enough  misery  endured  by 
young  ministers  whose  hearts  were  not  in 
their  work  and  who  were  perhaps  tortured 
by  this  modern  spirit  of  doubt,  and  I  tell 
her  that  the  profession  that  was  good  enough 
for  his  father  is  good  enough  for  him. ' ' 

There  seemed  to  be  something  fascinating 
in  the  clear-cut  tones  of  the  burglar's  voice 
for  Minerva  stood  in  the  kitchen  listening 
intently  to  every  word. 

"I  hope  you  will  enjoin  on  him  the  neces 
sity  of  being  honest,"  said  Ethel  with  evi 
dent  enjoyment. 

"Example   is   better   than  precept,   Mrs. 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          53 

Vernon,"  said  he,  looking  her  straight  in  the 
eyes.  "I'm  not  much  of  a  preacher  myself. 
I  sometimes  say  to  him,  'Do  as  you  see  me 
do,  my  boy,  but  try  to  do  it  better. '  I  do  hope 
to  enable  him  to  make  an  easy  entry  into 
the  homes  of  really  good  people.  I  tell  him 
that  it's  not  always  the  richest  who  are  the 
most  valuable.  He  may  be  able  to  pick  up 
something  from  a  man  who  is  comparatively 
poor,  but  who  has  good  taste,  and  I  tell  him 
always  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open  when 
he  is  in  the  houses  of  others,  because  there 
is  no  telling  how  profitable  a  good  use  of  eyes, 
and  ears  may  be.  The  boy  has  quite  a  taste 
for  rare  china.  He's  managed  to  get  hold  of 
some  handsome  pieces." 

"Do  you  allow  him  much  spending 
money?"  asked  I  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"No,  I  don't  give  him  any  stated  sum,  but 
he  has  his  own  ways  of  adding  to  his  income. 
I  believe  in  making  a  boy  self  reliant.  He 
wasn't  over  six  when  I  gave  him  a  little 
boost  up  the  ladder  as  a  starter,  and  told 
him  to  remember  to  rise  superior  to  circum 
stances,  and  he  made  quite  a  comfortable 
nest  egg.  Went  into  the  hen  business.  Se- 


lected  his  own  hens  and  sold  them  at  a  profit. 
A  boy  that  learns  to  be  self  reliant  is  years 
ahead  of  a  boy  who  is  pampered.  Minerva, 
that  was  the  best  omelet  I  ever  ate.  I  wish 
I  could  stay  here  and  eat  one  of  your  break 
fasts,  but,  Philip,  if  I  expect  to  get  to  the 
McLeod's  to-night,  I'll  have  to  be  going  righit 
along.  You  see  I  expected  to  get  here  in  time 
to  dine  with  you,  and  leave  about  eleven,  but 
I  lost  my  way,  and  I  know  the  Major  will  be 
expecting  me  and  he  won't  go  to  bed  until 
I  come.  I'm  awfully  sorry  to  go." 

As  he  rose  from  the  table  I  noticed  the 
bag  containing  his  plunder.  Unless  Minerva 
was  an  absolute  innocent  she  would  suspect 
that  all  was  not  right  when  he  picked  it  up, 
but  luckily  at  that  moment  she  went  out  to 
the  pantry  to  put  away  the  milk,  or  some 
thing,  and  during  her  absence  he  picked  it 
up  with  great  nonchalance  and  walked  out 
of  the  room,  bowing  to  Ethel,  who  made  a 
little  gesture  of  repugnance  when  the  real 
nature  of  his  work  was  brought  home  to  her 
in  so  concrete  a  manner. 

I  followed  him  out  to  the  front  door,  where 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          55 

he  deposited  the  bag  on  the  step  and  said 
very  suggestively, 

"I  believe  I'll  give  Minerva  a  tip  if  you 
have  no  objection.  She  deserves  it." 

''Why,  I  have  no  objection,"  said  I,  "but 
it  isn't  necessary." 

"Pardon  me  if  I  differ,"  said  he,  good 
naturedly,  holding  out  his  hand. 

And  then  I  understood  that  I  was  being 
held  up. 

"How  much  do  you  want  to  give  her," 
said  I,  wishing  now  that  he  was  far  away. 

But  his  demand  was  very  reasonable — 
comparatively  speaking, — for  he  said, 

"I  think  that  five  dollars  and  a  quarter 
would  be  a  fair  amount  for  me  to  give.  She 
may  not  get  every  cent,  but  I've  talked  a 
good  deal  to-night  and  the  laborer  is  worthy 
of  his  hire.  You're  a  decent  sort  of  fellow, 
or  I  might  increase  the  amount." 

"You'll  have  to  come  up  stairs  for  it," 
said  I,  "I  never  carry  much  in  my  pajamas." 

He  followed  me  up  stairs,  his  eyes  roving 
all  over  the  place. 

1 '  There  must  be  a  lot  of  high  thinking  done 


56        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

in  this  establishment,"  said  he,  as  he  looked 
at  the  sparsely  decorated  walls. 

"It  was  a  high  old  thought  to  get  you  to 
pose  as  my  friend.  If  Minerva  stays  with 
us  I'll  think  of  you,  and  I  wish  that  you 
might  be  induced  to — " 

"Don't,  that's  cant.  You  may  think  you 
mean  it,  but  you  don't.  If  you  read  in  to 
morrow's  paper  that  I  had  been  arrested, 
you  wouldn't  drop  one  tear.  You  live  your 
life,  and  I'll  live  mine.  If  you  ever  have  a 
chance  to  do  a  man  a  good  turn,  go  ahead 
and  do  it,  but  I  won't  lie  awake  nights  won 
dering  whether  you've  done  it  or  not." 

"No,  I  suppose  you're  not  given  to  lying 
awake  nights,  but  you  may  lie  awake  days 
and  ponder  on  a  good  many  things." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  my  Christian 
friend,"  said  the  burglar  as  we  walked  back 
to  the  kitchen,  "I  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just, 
and  the  reason  I'm  just,  is  because  I  never 
rob  a  man  that  I  know  to  be  poor." 

We  had  now  come  down  stairs  again,  and 
he  went  out  into  the  kitchen,  and  I  heard  him 
say  to  Minerva, 

"Minerva,  here's  some  silver  to  add  to 


A   FRIENDLY   BURGLAR          57 

your  collection.  And  don't  ever  make  the 
mistake  of  leaving  the  Vernons.  They  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth.  They  may  not  be  rich, 
but  I  am  sure  they're  kind,  and  if  you  know 
when  you're  well  off  you'll  stay  with  them. 
I've  known  Mr.  Vernon  ever  since  he  was 
a  boy,  and  if  I  was  looking  for  a  position  like 
yours  I'd  try  to  get  one  with  him.  And  Mrs. 
Vernon  is  just  as  good.  You  stay  by  them 
and  they'll  stay  by  you." 

"  'Deed  I  will,"  said  Minerva  with  the  unc 
tion  of  one  who  has  felt  a  revival  of  religious 
feeling  at  a  camp  meeting.  The  burglar  had 
actually  aroused  in  her  a  sense  of  loyalty. 

I  was  sorry  to  see  him  go.  I've  known 
many  an  honest  man  who  wasn't  half  as  in 
teresting,  and  I've  known  many  an  interest 
ing  man  who  was  not  much  more  honest, 
although  I  never  had  any  words  with  a 
confessed  burglar  before.  I  actually  found 
myself  saying  "Good  luck  to  you,"  as  he 
shouldered  his  bag  and  went  off  down  the 
tree-bordered  road  in  the  silver  moonlight. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   CONSTABLE   CALLS. 

NEXT  morning  we  slept  late,  but  when 
Mrs.  Vernon  and  I  finally  awoke  we 
heard  no  sounds  in  the  kitchen. 

"I  have  a  headache,"  said  Ethel.  "That 
midnight  supper  didn't  agree  with  me." 

"Why  you  didn't  eat  anything." 

"No,  but  I  can't  sit  up  late  and  feel  good 
for  anything  in  the  morning.  I  suppose  Mi 
nerva  feels  the  same  as  I  do." 

"Yes,  but  as  she  is  paid  to  forget  her  feel 
ings,  I  suppose  she'll  get  up  and  get  break 
fast." 

"Do  you  mind  calling  her?"  asked  Ethel, 
and  again  donning  my  dressing  gown  I  went 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  called, 

"Minerva!  Minerva,  it's  half  past  eight 
o'clock." 

No  answer. 

58 


THE    CONSTABLE   CALLS         59 

I  went  up  stairs  and  stood  outside  her 
door. 

"Minerva,  it's  time  to  get  up.  I  know 
you  must  be  sleepy,  but  it's  half  past  eight." 

"Mist.  Vernon,"  came  a  languid  re 
sponse,  "I  don'  feel  like  I  could  cook  this 
morning,  I'm  so  tired." 

What  was  this?  Was  it  insubordination? 
Perhaps  it  was,  but  I  did  not  mean  to  recog 
nise  it  as  such.  Who  had  prepared  the  mid 
night  supper  without  a  word?  Minerva. 
Was  I  one  to  forget  benefits  conferred?  No. 
Did  I  want  to  keep  Minerva  at  all  hazards? 
Yes.  Was  it  wise  to  let  Ethel  know  of  the 
state  of  affairs  ?  No. 

Therefore  I  came  softly  down  the  stairs 
and  going  out  into  the  kitchen,  I  built  a  fire 
and  then  went  to  work  as  dexterously  as  I 
could  to  cook  things  for  breakfast.  I  poured 
a  cup  of  cold  water  on  three  cups  of  oatmeal 
flakes  and  set  them  to  boil,  and  while  I  waited 
for  the  water  to  attend  to  business  I  got  a 
book  and  read.  Really,  this  cooking  is  no 
such  hardship  as  I  had  supposed,  thought  I. 
I  was  not  as  quick  as  Minerva,  for  I  was  an 
hour  getting  the  oatmeal  to  a  point  where  it 


60        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

looked  palatable,  and  I  made  some  mistake 
of  proportions  in  making  the  coffee,  but  I 
sliced  the  bread  very  well,  indeed,  and  I 
set  the  table  without  nicking  a  plate,  and  at 
last  I  put  a  half  dozen  eggs  into  the  water  in 
the  double  boiler  and  went  up  stairs  to  an 
nounce  breakfast.  Ethel  had  fallen  asleep. 
I  woke  her  and  told  her  that  I  believed  break 
fast  was  ready.  Then  I  went  down  to  my 
book  again. 

Ethel  can  hurry  upon  occasion,  and  she 
was  no  time  in  coming  down.  But  quick  as 
she  was,  I  was  quicker,  for  I  had  the  eggs  on 
the  table  before  she  appeared,  and  when  she 
came  into  the  room  we  sat  down  together 
with  never  a  suspicion  on  her  part  that  Mi 
nerva  had  not  prepared  the  breakfast.  I 
felt  the  way  I  used  to  feel  when  I  was  a  boy 
and  used  to  do  something  a  little  beyond  my 
supposed  powers.  My  bosom  swelled  with 
pride  as  I  reflected  that  every  bit  of  the 
breakfast  had  been  prepared  by  me. 

Ethel  uncovered  the  oatmeal  dish  and  then 
she  said,  rather  irrelevantly,  I  thought, 

"What's  the  matter  with  Minerva?" 


THE    CONSTABLE    CALLS         61 

"Nothing,  dear,"  said  I,  reaching  out  my 
hand  for  my  portion. 

Her  only  answer  was  to  ring  the  bell. 

" —  Er  —  I  believe  Minerva  is  upstairs," 
said  I. 

"What  has  she  been  doing  to  the  oat- 
meal?"  said  Ethel,  poking  at  it  with  her 
spoon,  but  not  attempting  to  taste  the  stiff- 
looking  mass. 

"Fact  is,  Ethel,"  said  I,  "Minerva  is  a 
little  upset  by  last  night's  disturbance,  and 
I  cooked  the  breakfast." 

"You  mean  you  didn't  cook  it,"  said 
Ethel,  with  just  a  touch  of  sarcasm. 

"Well,  what  I  didn't  do,  I  didn't  do  for 
you.  I  thought  you'd  had  enough  of  the 
kitchen,  and  if  you  disguise  this  with  sugar 
and  cream  it  will  be  all  right." 

But  this  was  an  exaggeration.  We  could 
not  pretend  to  eat  the  gluey  mass,  so  I  said, 

"Well,  anyhow,  there  are  nice  fresh  eggs. 
It  doesn't  take  a  great  deal  of  skill  to  boil 
them." 

"Did  you  use  the  three-minute  glass,"  said 
Ethel,  as  she  helped  me  to  two  eggs  and  then 
took  two  herself. 


62       MINEBVA'S  MANCEUVBES 

I  told  her  that  I  didn't  know  what  she 
meant;  that  I  used  no  glass  at  all,  but  had 
boiled  them  in  the  under  part  of  the  oatmeal 
boiler,  as  I  had  noticed  Minerva  do. 

"Yes,  but  how  long?"  asked  Ethel,  as  she 
took  up  her  knife  and  chipped  the  shell  of 
one. 

"About  an  hour  and  a  half,"  said  she,  an 
swering  her  own  question.  "You  meant  well, 
Philip,  but  you  didn't  know.  These  are  as 
hard  as  a  rock  and  not  yet  cold.  I  hope  the 
coffee  is  better." 

Ethel  is  not  usually  so  fault  finding,  but 
I  laid  it  to  her  broken  sleep,  and  said, 

"The  bread  is  cut  pretty  well.  And  the 
butter  is  just  as  good  as  if  Minerva  had  put 
it  on  the  table  herself. ' ' 

"Yes,  the  bread  and  butter  are  quite  a 
success,  Phil,  but  this  coffee  — " 

"Mild?"  said  I,  taking  my  cue  from  the 
color  of  it  as  she  poured. 

"I  should  say  so.  It  looks  like  a  substi 
tute  for  coffee." 

"Then  I  guess  I  don't  care  for  any,"  said 
I.  "But  anyhow,  you  didn't  have  to  do  any 


THE   CONSTABLE   CALLS         63 

of  the  preparing,  and  we'll  leave  it  for  Mi 
nerva  to  wash  the  dishes." 

I  helped  myself  to  milk  and  managed  to 
eat  an  egg,  but  they  are  not  very  good  when 
hot  and  hard,  unless  they  are  sliced  and  re 
posing  on  a  bed  of  spinach, 

I  began  to  feel  a  little  hot  myself  that 
Minerva  should  have  led  me  to  this  success 
ful  exposure  of  incompetence,  and  leaving 
the  table  I  went  up  stairs  and  called  out 
somewhat  angrily, 

' '  Minerva,  we  're  all  through  breakfast  and 
you'll  have  to  come  right  down  and  prepare 
lunch,  as  nothing,  has  been  fit  to  eat." 

A  snore  was  the  only  response  that  she 
gave,  and  I  was  glad  she  had  not  heard  me. 
One  cannot  afford  to  be  peremptory  if  one 
has  but  one  string  to  one's  bow.  I  came 
down  stairs  again. 

Ethel  was  in  the  kitchen  frying  some  eggs 
and  preparing  some  more  coffee. 

"Is  she  coming  down?"  asked  she. 

"Er — no — she's  tired.  But  Ethel,  I  can't 
have  you  getting  breakfast.  I've  already 
got  one,  and  although  it  wasn't  a  success, 
we'd  better  make  it  do.  You  look  tired  out 


64        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

after  the  excitement  of  last  night.  Let's  eat 
some  berries  and  drink  a  glass  of  milk  and 
wait  for  lunch.  Wasn't  that  burglar  funny 
last  night?" 

"Philip,  are  you  going  to  let  Minerva  stay 
in  bed  all  day?"  said  Ethel. 
I  sat  down  on  the  kitchen  table  and  said, 
"Ethel,  would  you  like  to  be  waked  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  and  forced  to  pre 
pare  an  extra  meal?  Minerva  is  a  human 
being  and  she  is  tired.  You're  a  human  be 
ing  and  you're  tired.  Let  us  let  Minerva 
spend  this  one  day  in  bed  taking  the  rest 
cure,  and  after  we've  eaten  this  second 
breakfast,  which  smells  pretty  good,  we'll 
spend  the  day  out  doors." 
"But  Minerva  is  insubordinate." 
"Very  well,  let  us  call  it  that.  Suppose 
we  suppress  her  insubordination  and  she 
works  for  us  all  day  and  takes  the  evening 
train  for  New  York,  will  the  thought  that  we 
have  suppressed  insubordination  in  a  cook 
get  us  a  new  servant?  Insubordination  in 
the  city,  where  there  are  whole  intelligence 
offices  filled  with  girls  looking  for  new  places, 
is  a  thing  that  I  can't  and  won't  stand;  but 


THE   CONSTABLE   CALLS         65 

insubordination,  with  Mamie  Logan  sick  with 
scarlet  fever  and  no  other  girl  in  the  world 
that  I  know  of,  is  a  thing  to  be  coddled,  as 
you  might  say.  Call  it  weariness  caused  by 
over-service  and  it  immediately  becomes  a 
thing  that  we  can  pardon.  Do  you  want  to 
pack  up  and  go  back  to  New  York?" 

Ethel  assured  me  that  she  did  not. 

"Well,  then,  don't  let  us  talk  any  more 
about  insubordination.  We'll  eat  what  you 
set  before  us,  asking  no  questions,  and  then 
we'll  go  out  for  a  long  walk." 

We  went  out  for  a  long  walk,  and  both  of 
us  succeeded  by  sheer  will  power  in  forget 
ting  that  Minerva  existed.  We  made  believe 
that  we  could  live  on  the  delicious  air  that 
blew  so  gently  at  us,  and  for  two  or  three 
hours  we  wandered  or  sat  still,  or  Ethel 
sketched  and  we  were  thoroughly  happy. 

It  was  about  noon  when  we  returned  to 
the  house.  We  heard  loud  voices  and  stopped 
to  listen. 

"I  tell  you  he  was  a  frien'  of  Mist.  Ver- 
non's,"  we  heard  Minerva  say. 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Vernon  has  a  thief  for 
a  friend." 


66        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

We  exchanged  meaning  glances.  Our 
friend  of  the  night  before  had  evidently  been 
traced  as  far  as  our  house.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  do  but  to  go  forward  and  accept  the 
inevitable. 

I  went  into  the  kitchen,  followed  by  Ethel. 
A  large,  determined  looking  man  was  sitting 
on  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  floor ;  by  his 
side  stood  a  strapping  mulatto,  and  Minerva, 
stopped  midway  in  her  dishwashing  and  with 
something  of  sleepiness  still  in  her  eyes,  was 
standing  by  the  stove. 

"  How  are  you?"    This  from  me. 

"Good  morning.  My  name  is  Collins,  and 
I'm  a  constable.  The  Fayerweather's  house 
was  robbed  last  night  and  the  thief  got  away 
with  the  goods." 

I  assumed  a  look  of  great  unconcern,  but 
I  felt  that  Minerva  was  devouring  me  with 
her  eyes. 

"That's  bad,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  it's  bad,  but  it  might  be  worse.  I 
find  that  he  came  as  far  as  here,  and  your 
girl  says  that  you  entertained  him  with  a 
midnight  supper.  Where  is  he  now; 
hiding?" 


THE   CONSTABLE    CALLS         67 

His  tone  was  insolent,  and  my  tone  was 
correspondingly  dignified. 

"Why,  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  where 
the  thief  that  robbed  the  Fayerweather's  is 
now,"  said  I,  wishing  with  all  my  heart  that 
the  constable  was  on  his  vacation  at  some 
pleasant  summer  resort,  far,  far  away. 

"Minerva,"  said  I,  trying  to  take  the  bull 
by  the  horns,  "what  makes  you  say  that  I 
entertained  a  thief  last  night?" 

"I  didn'  say  so,  Mist.  Vernon.  This 
ge'man  said  that  a  man,  now — robbed  that 
house,  an'  ast  me  if  we  had  a  mid — a  mid 
night  vis'ter;  an'  I  said  no  one  but  your 
frien'  that  I  cooked  the  om'let  for ;  an'  he  ast 
me  how  he  looked,  an'  I  told  him  it  couldn' 
be  him,  because  you  an'  him  was  great 
frien 's,  an'  I  knowed  you  wasn'  no  frien 's 
with  a  burglar. ' ' 

"Hm,"  said  I,  wondering  why  in  thunder- 
ation  I  had  been  placed  in  such  an  unpleasant 
position  as  this,  solely  through  my  well- 
meant  efforts  to  keep  Minerva  contented. 

"Did  you  entertain  a  friend  here  after 
midnight,  last  night?"  asked  the  constable, 


G8        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

who  seemed  a  painfully  direct  sort  of  indi 
vidual. 

"  There  was  a  man  came  here  late  last 
night,  and  we  had  a  little  chat  together,  and 
a — a  little  supper,  you  might  call  it." 

I  paused  and  looked  at  Ethel.  She  was 
the  color  of  a  carnation. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  constable. 

At  this  I  remembered  my  dignity,  and 
again  stood  upon  it. 

"Why  should  I  go  on?  Who  are  you  to 
cross-question  me  in  this  way!" 

"I  am  the  constable,  as  I  said  before,  and 
I  consider  it  very  suspicious  that  you  should 
be  visited  by  a  man  who  had  a  bag  that 
jingled,  at  midnight." 

"Why  shouldn't  it  jingle  at  midnight?" 
said  I  with  a  desperate  attempt  to  impart  a 
tone  of  lightness  to  the  conversation.  "If 
I  choose  to  give  a  meal  to  a  wayfarer  with 
a  jingling  bag,  I  suppose  it  is  my  own  con 
cern." 

"Mist.  Vernon,  he  warn't  no  tramp.  He 
was  a  good  dresser,"  said  Minerva,  looking 
at  me  reproachfully. 

' '  Was  -    this  —  man  —  a  —  friend  —  of 


THE    CONSTABLE    CALLS         69 

—  yours  —  or  — not!'7  asked  the  constable 
doggedly. 

"He  was  a  friend  of  mine  last  night,"  said 
I,  thinking  of  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  felt  I 
owned  him  when  he  went  away. 

"Did  you  suspect  him  of  being  a  thief?" 
said  the  constable,  in  such  a  casual  way  that 
without  thinking  I  said  "Yes." 

Minerva's  arms  had  been  folded  on  her 
breast.  They  dropped  to  her  side.  Ethel 
slipped  behind  the  constable  and  went  into 
the  parlour — to  cool  her  red  cheeks,  I  sup 
pose. 

It  was  certainly  a  very  unpleasant  position 
for  both  of  us,  and  I  felt  that  my  white  lies 
were  coming  home  to  roost  way  ahead  of 
roosting  time. 

"Did  he  give  you  a  part  of  the  spoils  as  a 
reward  for  having  fed  him?" 

"No,  sir."     This  indignantly. 

"He  didn't  give  you  this?"  said  he,  pull 
ing  out  of  his  pocket  a  silver  vase. 

"No." 

At  this  Minerva  actually  began  to  sob. 
"Oh,  Mist.  Vernon,  how  could  you  say  that? 
I  found  that  vase  in  the  kitchen  this  morning, 


70        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

and  this  man  says  it  was  stolen  from  them 
people.  Oh,  why  did  I  come  up  here  ? ' ' 

"  Philip,  you  might  as  well  tell  the  whole 
story,"  said  Ethel,  coming  back  from  the 
parlour.  ''We'll  probably  lose  Minerva  now, 
anyway. ' ' 

"So  there  is  a  story,"  said  the  constable, 
crossing  his  legs  in  a  most  irritating  way. 
In  fact  he  couldn't  have  done  anything  that 
would  not  have  been  irritating. 

I  saw  that  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  tell 
the  truth,  ridiculous  as  it  might  sound  with 
Minerva  there.  Indeed,  the  very  fact  of  my 
telling  it  might  soften  the  girl  and  show  her 
how  much  we  were  willing  to  descend  in  our 
efforts  to  keep  her  valuable  services.  But  I 
made  a  wrong  start.  I  said : 

"I  knew  that  the  man  was  a  burglar — " 

Minerva  immediately  burst  out  sobbing 
and  left  the  kitchen  and  went  to  her  room, 
and  my  mental  eye  could  see  her  remorse 
lessly  packing  her  trunk. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  constable,  and  then,  "Go 
outside,"  said  he  to  the  mulatto. 

"Well,  now  that  they've  gone,"  said  I  in  a 


THE   CONSTABLE    CALLS         71 

relieved  tone, ' '  I  can  tell  you  the  whole  thing, 
farcical  as  it  is.  Have  you  a  servant!" 

"My  wife  has  a  hired  girl.  What's  that 
got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Do  you  have  trouble  in  keeping  her?" 

"We  have  trouble  in  keeping  them.  It's 
one  after  another.  They  all  get  the  itch  for 
the  mills  or  the  stores." 

'  *  Good !  Then  you  '11  understand  me, ' '  said 
I,  and  I  told  him  the  whole  story,  going  on  to 
s,ay: 

"When  we  were  roused  by  this  burglar, 
and  I  realized  that  Minerva  would  throw  up 
her  position  if  she  was  unduly  startled,  I 
resolved  to  throw  myself  on  the  burglar's 
mercy,  and  ask  him  to  pose  as  my  friend, 
so  as  to  deceive  Minerva.  It  worked  all 
right,  or  would  have  worked  all  right  if  you 
hadn't  come  here  to  upset  her  worse  than 
ever.  She's  probably  packing  her  trunk, 
now — " 

"By  Godfrey,  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  con 
stable,  who  seemed  a  very  decent  sort  of  fel 
low,  now  that  I  knew  him  better. 

"You  may  well  be  sorry,"  said  I,  with  con 
siderably  more  spirit  than  I  had  yet  shown. 


72        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

''Of  course,  I  understand  that  you  are  doing 
your  duty,  but  it's  always  best  to  come  to 
headquarters  in  an  affair  of  this  kind.  You 
got  only  a  garbled  version  from  Minerva. 
I  have  given  you  the  facts.  The  burglar 
evidently  left  that  cup  by  mistake,  and  the 
Fayerweathers  are  welcome  to  it.  I'm  sure 
I  never  want  to  see  it  again.  It  would  be 
a  perpetual  reminder  of  our  loss  of  Miner 
va." 

The  constable  rose.  "It's  a  durned 
shame,"  said  he,  ''but  of  course  I  didn't 
know  anything  about  you.  So  then  you 
don't  know  where  the  burglar  went  after  he 
left  here?" 

I  hesitated.  It  did  not  seem  honourable  to 
tell  even  the  little  I  knew  about  the  man  who 
had  been  my  guest. 

"He  went  out  the  front  door,"  said  I, 
"but  where  he  is  now  I  haven't  the  shadow  of 
a  suspicion." 

The  constable  opened  the  kitchen  door. 
"Come  along,  Jim,"  said  he. 

Then  he  took  his  leave. 

Overhead  Minerva  was  preparing  for  the 
same  thing. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MISS   PUSSY   TRIES   FLY   PAPER. 

IN  the  back  hallway,  up  stairs,  there  was 
a  long  wooden  chest,  half  full  of  old 
magazines.  Behind  it  mice  had  estab 
lished  a  home.  I  did  not  know  this  at  the 
time,  but  was  to  learn  it  a  few  minutes  after 
the  constable  left. 

We  stood  in  the  kitchen,  Ethel  and  I,  list 
ening  to  the  heavy  foot-falls  of  Minerva. 
She  was  evidently  packing  her  trunk.  Sud 
denly  there  came  a  mewing  at  the  kitchen 
door,  and  I  opened  it  for  the  entrance  of 
Miss  Pussy,  who  made  a  bee  line  for  up 
stairs,  one  of  her  hunting  grounds. 

"We  might  hide  Miss  Pussy,"  said  I,  "and 
then  Minerva  wouldn't  go." 

Minerva's  voice  has  a  penetrating  quality, 
and  in  a  minute  we  could  hear  her  making  a 
confidant  of  Miss  Pussy. 

"Miss  Pussy,  you  an'  me  is  go'n'  back  to 

73 


74        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

the  lovely  city.  Country's  ba-ad  'nough,  but 
livin'  with  the  Men's  of  burglars  is  wuss. 
What  you  want,  Miss  Pussy?" 

The  voice  came  out  into  the  hall;  Minerva 
had  evidently  followed  the  cat  out. 

"Yeah,  you'll  get  a  mouse  behin'  there. 
You  wait — " 

We  heard  a  grunt  such  as  some  people 
make  when  they  lift  something  heavy,  and 
then  a  characteristic  chuckle,  and  then  a  half 
agonized, 

"Ooh,  come  out,  come  out,  Miss  Pussy. 
You'll  git  squished.  I  can't  hold  it.  Come 
out." 

"What  is  happening  now?"  said  I  to 
Ethel. 

"Oh,  some  of  her  tomfoolery.  I'm  out  of 
patience  with  her." 

"Mist.  Vernon!  Mist.  Vernon!  quick! 
qui-i-ck!  I  can't  hoi' much  longer!  Pussy '11 
be  squished!" 

I  rushed  up  those  familiar  stairs,  followed 
by  Ethel,  and  there  stood  Minerva,  her  eyes 
nearly  popping  out  of  her  head  as  she  tried 
with  bare  success  to  hold  up  the  heavy  chest 
full  of  magazines. 


MISS   PUSSY   TRIES   FLY   PAPER  75 

Of  the  cat  nothing  was  to  be  seen  except 
a  twitching  tail  that  told  me  she  was  under 
neath  the  chest  watching  a  mouse  in  calm 
obliviousness  of  the  fact  that  her  mistress 
was  using  all  her  strength  in  an  effort  to 
save  her  from  becoming  only  a  map  of  a  cat. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  I  cried,  rushing  to 
her  assistance,  but  just  as  I  reached  her  the 
chest  slipped  from  her  fingers. 

But  a  cat  with  all  its  nine  lives  fresh 
within  its  young  frame,  is  not  easily 
"squished,"  even  by  so  heavy  a  thing  as  a 
chest  full  of  magazines,  and  Miss  Pussy's 
body  darted  out  just  in  time.  Not  so  the 
tip  of  her  tail  which,  whisking  behind  her 
as  she  turned  to  rush  out,  was  caught  be 
tween  chest  and  floor,  and  acted  like  a  push 
button  on  a  call  bell,  for  she  emitted  a  con 
tinuous  yawp  that  lasted  until  I  had  lifted 
the  chest  again. 

Cats  generally  see  where  they  are  going, 
but  Miss  Pussy  had  been  looking  behind  her 
at  the  spectacle  of  her  imprisoned  tail,  and 
when  I  released  her  she  sprang  high  in  the 
air  and  landed  compactly  and  dexterously 
on  a  sheet  of  sticky  fly  paper. 


76        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Never  can  I  forget  the  look  she  gave  us 
over  her  shoulder  as  her  feet  struck  the  gluey 
mass.  To  give  herself  a  leverage  by  which 
to  pull  her  dainty  fore-paws  out  of  the  en 
tanglement,  she  sat  down — temporarily,  as 
she  thought — permanently,  as  the  fly  paper 
decided. 

We  iv ere  sorry  for  the  cat,  but  being  Amer 
icans  we  gave  ourselves  over  to  mirth  at 
the  picture  she  presented.  The  pencil  of  a 
Frost  is  needed  to  adequately  represent  her 
agonised  twisting  on  the  sticky  sheet.  At 
last,  by  a  Herculean  effort,  she  extricated  her 
fore  paws  and  walking  glue-ily  to  the  head 
of  the  stairs  she  dragged  herself  along  on 
the  fly  paper  as  if  she  were  part  sled,  part 
cat.  Coining  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  she 
attempted  to  walk  down  in  the  manner  of 
trick  cats,  but  not  being  used  to  the  exercise 
she  turned  a  series  of  summersaults  instead, 
and  landed  at  the  foot  so  completely  en 
meshed  in  sticky  fly  paper  that  it  would  have 
been  a  small  fly,  indeed,  who  could  have 
found  a  place  for  his  own  little  feet  upon  its 
yellow  surface. 

I  have  often  derided  the  witless  persons 


MISS   PUSSY   TRIES   FLY   PAPER  77 

who  found  amusement  in  what  I  call  panto 
mime  catastrophes,  but  this  simple  conjunc 
tion  of  cat  and  fly  paper  was  as  funny  as 
anything  I  ever  looked  at. 

"It'll  spoil  her  nice  fur,"  said  Minerva, 
running  down  stairs  after  the  cat  and  over 
taking  her  at  the  kitchen  door,  which  I  had 
fortunately  closed.  A  sympathetic  hand 
picked  up  the  papered  cat  and  attempted  to 
divorce  her  from  her  adhesive  mantle,  but 
when  I  came  down  it  looked  to  me  as  if  there 
were  far  more  fur  on  the  "tanglefoot"  than 
Pussy  had  herself,  and  the  ungrateful  animal 
had  scratched  her  benefactress  as  well  as  she 
could  with  glue  covered  talons.  Then  spit 
ting  and  swearing,  Miss  Pussy  dashed 
through  the  kitchen  window,  not  waiting  for 
it  to  be  opened,  and  went  to  her  first  retreat, 
where  she  remained  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
ridding  herself,  after  the  manner  of  cats,  of 
as  much  as  she  could  of  the  flies'  last  resting 
place. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  the  time 
was  ripe  for  more  diplomacy,  that  even  now, 
at  the  eleventh  hour,  I  might  save  Minerva 


to  the  house  of  Vernon,  and  things  would 
continue  to  go  on  as  smoothly — as  before. 

"Minerva,  you  saved  Miss  Pussy's  life  by 
holding  on  as  you  did,"  said  I.  (I  said 
nothing  about  her  asininity  in  lifting  the 
chest  for  Miss  Pussy  to  creep  under  it.) 

"Might  as  well  be  dead  as  all  gawmed  up 
with  that  fly  paper  stuff." 

"Well,  she  has  a  cat's  tongue,  and  she 
knows  how  to  use  it.  She'll  be  as  sleek  as 
sealskin  by  to-night.  Minerva!" 

"Yas'r." 

"Minerva,  if  I  raised  your  wages,  do  you 
think  you'd  stay  with  us?  Of  course,  you 
know  I  never  saw  that  man  until  last  night." 

"Then  how'd  he  know  so  much  about  them 
children  and  all  them  people?" 

"That  was  just  his  funny  way.  He  was 
making  believe — just — just  to  make  talk. 
But  you  haven't  answered  my  question. 
"Would  you  stay  if  I  raised  your  wages  I ' ' 

"How  much?" 

There  was  no  use  in  my  being  mealy 
mouthed  now,  and  so  I  flung  economy  to  the 
four  winds  of  heaven  and  said: 

"Thirty  dollars  a  month." 


MISS   PUSSY  TRIES   FLY  PAPER   79 

Minerva  gasped.  The  bait  was  in  her 
throat. 

"Thirty  dollars  a  month  right  through 
the  summer,"  said  I. 

"I'll  stay,  Mist.  Vernon,  jes  to  help  you 
out,  but  I  do  hate  the  country  and  the  night 
time.  If  it  was  all  day  long  all  the  time,  I 
could  stan'  it.  If  I  could  git  to  bed  about 
eight  o'clock,  I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much, 
but  you  have  dinner  so  late,  I  don't  get  the 
dishes  washed  in  time." 

I  pondered,  and  just  then  Ethel  came  into 
the  kitchen. 

"Ethel,  Minerva  is  going  to  stay  with  us 
for  the  summer,  but  she  is  afraid  of  the 
dark,  and  thinks  that  if  we  could  have  dinner 
earlier  she  would  like  it  better." 

Ethel  sniffed.     She  sniffed  disdainfully. 

"When  would  you  like  to  have  it,  Mi 
nerva?"  said  I,  hoping  that  the  sniffing 
would  cease.  Sniffs  are  not  a  part  of  diplo 
macy,  by  any  means. 

"If  you  had  it  at  five  o'clock,  I'd  get  to 
bed  at  eight." 

"Five   o'clock   is   ridiculous,"   burst  out 


80        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVBES 

Ethel.  I  looked  at  her  warningly,  but  she 
did  not  pay  any  attention  to  my  signal. 

' '  No,  Minerva, ' '  said  she.  ' '  Six  o  'clock  is 
plenty  early  enough." 

"Well,"  said  Minerva,  actually  putting  her 
hands  on  her  hips,  a  new  attitude  for  her, 
"I'm  on'y  staying  now  to  oblige,  and  I'll 
have  to  go  back,  I  reckon." 

Now  this  was  a  little  too  much,  but  for 
the  sake  of  keeping  her  and  the  health  of 
my  wife  at  any  cost,  I  said : 

"Well,  Minerva,  I  suppose  that  in  spite  of 
Mrs.  Vernon's  objection  to  the  hour  we'll 
have  dinner  at  five,  but  I  tell  you  plainly 
that  it  is  because  I  do  not  want  Mrs.  Vernon 
to  be  left  without  a  servant." 

"You're  a  very  ungrateful  girl,  Minerva," 
said  Ethel  with  a  strange  lack  of  tact.  * '  Mr. 
Vernon  has  put  up  with  a  great  deal  from 
you,  and  you  act  as  if  you  were  ill  treated." 

"I'm  kep'  a  prisoner  in  the  country,  an' 
that's  ill  treatment  all  right,"  said  Minerva, 
sullenly,  and  I  motioned  to  Ethel  and  we  left 
the  kitchen  together. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

MINERVA'S  PASTORAL. 

NEXT  morning  was  a  pleasant  one,  and 
as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  I  went 
out  into  the  kitchen  and  told  Minerva 
that  if  her  friend  did  not  delay,  her  musical 
instrument  ought  to  arrive  by  Friday.  I 
found  her  in  her  usual  state  of  good  temper. 

' '  That  little  place  where  you  were  sewing, 
out  there  in  the  woods,  will  be  a  very  good 
spot  in  which  to  play  it,"  said  I  suggestively. 

"Oh,  I  kin  play  it  anywheys,"  said  she 
with  a  kindling  glance,  that  bespoke  the  artist 
of  temperament,  absolute  master  of  his  in 
strument.  So  Paderewski  might  speak  of  his 
ability  to  play  a  piano  in  a  drawing  room 
car. 

That  morning  I  had  a  notion  to  go  fishing, 
and  I  asked  Ethel  to  join  me,  but  she  said 
she  was  tired,  and  laughed  as  she  said  it. 
Of  course  Minerva  was  the  real  reason. 

81 


82        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

'  '  I  wish  that  houses  were  automatic, ' '  said 
I,  "so  that  they  could  run  themselves.  Just 
think  how  nice  it  would  be  to  have  a  house 
fitted  to  run  by  steam  all  day  long,  by  simply 
dropping  a  five  dollar  gold  piece  in  the  slot 
in  the  morning." 

"How  expensive,"  said  the  economical 
Ethel. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  I,  "there's  many 
a  housekeeper  who  would  be  willing  to  give 
up  many  things  if  five  dollars  a  day  would 
bring  relief  from  household  sorrows.  'No 
servants  needed.  A  child  can  run  it.  Can  be 
fitted  to  any  house.  Gas  or  electric  or  steam 
motive  power.  Not  half  the  danger  from  ex 
plosions  that  went  with  the  old  system  when 
servants  were  liable  to  go  off  at  any  moment. 
Come  to  our  warerooms  and  see  a  large  house 
running  by  itself.'  There's  a  fortune  in  the 
idea." 

"Well,  you  have  the  idea,"  said  Ethel. 
"Go  sell  it." 

"No,  I'm  going  fishing." 

The  great  advantage  that  fishing  has  over 
some  sports  is  that  one  does  not  need  ability 
or  paraphernalia  of  any  sort  beyond  those  of 


MINERVA'S   PASTORAL          83 

the  most  primitive  type.  Your  hammer- 
thrower  needs  brawn,  your  chess  player 
brains,  your  golf  player  a  caddy — and  a  vo 
cabulary,  but  anyone  can  go  fishing.  Of 
course  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
going  fishing  and  catching  fish,  and  I  am  one 
of  that  large  army  that  goes  fishing  and  re 
turns  from  fishing  as  innocent  of  fish  as  at 
the  moment  of  departure. 

But  to  the  man  with  eyes,  there  are  many 
things  besides  fish  that  he  can  catch,  and, 
although  no  hint  of  a  nibble  came  to  my  pa 
tient  fingers,  I  reveled  in  the  day  and  would 
have  stayed  longer  if  I  had  not  felt  anxious 
about  Ethel  and  Minerva.  "What  could  they 
do  to  amuse  each  other,  with  me  away? 

I  made  my  pleasant  way  back  up  the  hills, 
so  reminiscent  of  Scotch  scenery,  and  knew 
very  well  the  sarcasms  that  would  greet  me 
when  I  acknowledged  that  I  had  possessed  no 
magnetism  over  the  fish.  Ethel  always  has 
a  store  of  amiable  causticisms  for  me  when 
I  come  back  from  a  fishless  expedition. 

When  I  returned  I  found  the  house  empty 
and  the  gluey  Miss  Pussy  shut  up  and  mi 
aowing  in  the  kitchen.  I  was  startled  at  first. 


84        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

I  had  come  up  by  way  of  the  pine  grove,  and 
there  was  no  one  there.  I  called  my  loudest 
and  no  one  answered.  Had  Minerva  obliged 
Ethel  to  get  a  horse  and  wagon  and  take  her 
to  the  station  in  my  absence?  It  looked  like 
it.  The  fire  was  nearly  out,  the  dishes  all 
washed,  the  floor  freshly  mopped.  That  was 
it.  Minerva  had  swept  and  garnished  the 
house  and  had  then  left  it,  and  in  a  short  time 
Ethel  would  come  back  disconsolate,  and  then 
— why,  then  we  would  pack  up  and  go  back 
ourselves. 

The  only  thing  that  did  not  fit  in  with  my 
conjecture  was  the  presence  of  Miss  Pussy. 
It  did  not  seem  as  if  Minerva  would  go  away 
and  leave  her  precious  cat. 

I  heard  a  rattle  of  wheels.    Bert  Dalton 
was  going  to  the  village.    I  would  go  down 
with  him  and  ride  back  with  Ethel.     She  had 
probably  hired  the  Stevens'  horse.    I  hur 
ried  out  and  hailed  Bert,  and  he  stopped. 
"Going  to  the  village?" 
"Yes,  sir,  want  anything  got?" 
I  explained  the  situation,  and  joined  him, 
and  we  were  soon  out  of  sight  of  the  house. 
I  looked  at  my  watch.    If  we  hurried  I  could 


85 

yet  get  to  the  station  before  the  train  for 
New  York  came  in.  I  told  Bert  so,  and  he 
quickened  the  horse 's  pace. 

About  half  a  mile  on  our  way  I  heard  some 
one  calling  for  help.  Bert  heard  the  call, 
too,  and  just  as  I  was  going  to  say  "stop," 
he  stopped  of  his  own  accord.  We  both 
jumped  out.  The  noise  came  from  a  field  on 
our  right,  mostly  given  over  to  blueberry 
bushes,  but  with  a  little  timber  on  its  farther 
edge. 

"Help!  Murder!"  It  was  a  high-keyed 
woman's  voice. 

"Tramps,"  said  Bert,  as  we  hurried  on. 

"Hysterics,"  said  I,  for  I  was  sure  I  heard 
laughter  alternating  with  the  screams.  And 
the  laughter  had  a  strangely  familiar  sound. 

On  we  ran,  the  screams  continuing,  and  at 
last  the  sounds  were  located,  that  is,  the 
screams  were.  They  came  from  a  low  grow 
ing  chestnut.  Perched  in  its  branches  sat  Mi 
nerva,  her  face  the  image  of  horror,  and  be 
low  on  a  fallen  trunk  sat  Ethel,  laughing,  with 
the  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks.  By  her 
side  were  two  tin  pails,  nearly  full  of  blue 
berries. 


86        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"Minerva,  stop  that  screaming.  I  tell  you 
she  won't  hurt  you,"  said  Ethel,  and  then 
went  off  into  another  fit  of  laughter,  and 
Minerva  yelled  blue  murder  again. 

Neither  had  seen  us. 

"Come  up  here,  Mis.  Vernon.  He'll  kill 
you,  shu's  you'  bawn." 

"She's  gone  away.  You've  frightened 
her.  Come  down." 

"Oh,  Lawdy!  Lawdy!  Lawdy!  Why'd  I 
come?  He'll  shu'ly  kill  us." 

When  we  saw  that  the  danger  was  imag- 
inery,  I  signalled  to  Bert,  and  we  both 
stepped  out  of  sight  of  Minerva  and  Mrs. 
Vernon,  in  order  to  see  the  comedy.  Ethel's 
perfect  calmness  and  her  amusement,  but 
slightly  tinged  with  sympathy,  formed  such 
a  striking  contrast  to  Minerva's  abject  fear. 
Who  was  this  he-she  that  was  threatening 
Minerva's  existence? 

There  was  a  rustling  in  the  bushes,  Mi 
nerva's  screams  redoubled,  and  in  spite  of 
her  180  pounds  she  climbed  still  higher  into 
the  tree. 

And  then  the  cause  of  all  the  commotion 
showed  "  himself. "  '&,  mild-looking  Jersey 


MINERVA'S   PASTORAL  87 

cow,  all  unconscious  of  the  agony  she  was 
causing,  came  into  view  and  advanced  toward 
Ethel,  sniffing. 

"Don't  you  overturn  our  berries,"  said 
my  wife,  walking  toward  the  creature.  The 
cow  was  evidently  a  pet,  for  as  Ethel  put 
out  her  hand  to  shoo  her  away  she  sniffed 
expectantly  and  put  out  her  tongue  in  hope 
of  receiving  some  little  delicacy. 

This  so  terrified  Minerva  that  she  took  an 
other  step  upward,  put  her  faith  in  a  re 
creant  limb,  and,  just  as  Bert  and  I  discov 
ered  ourselves  to  Ethel,  our  "cook  lady"  fell 
out  of  the  tree  and  landed  smack  on  the  cow, 
who  kindly  broke  her  fall  and  then  broke 
into  a  run,  kicking  her  heels  and  waving  her 
tail,  after  the  manner  of  her  species. 

Minerva  was  not  hurt,  thanks  to  the  cow, 
but  she  was  much  agitated,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  we  could  make  her  listen  to  the 
words  of  wisdom  that  all  three  poured  forth 
with  generous  ease. 

"It  was  such  a  lovely  day,  we  thought  we'd 
go  berrying, ' '  said  Ethel.  ' '  You  got  my  note,( 
I  suppose." 

"No,  I  did  not.    I  made  up  my  mind  that 


88        MINEKVA'S   MANCBUVEES 

you  were  taking  Minerva  to  the  train,  and 
as  Bert  passed  by  just  then,  I  came  down 
with  him  in  order  to  go  back  with  you." 

' '  Then  how  came  you  here  ? ' '  asked  Ethel. 

"How  came  we  here?  How  came  we  here? 
Why  those  screams  went  beyond  Mount 
Xebo.  You'll  see  people  pouring  over  the 
edge  of  it  in  a  few  minutes.  Such  shrieks  I 
never  heard  outside  of  a  mad  house.  I 
thought  it  was  Indians." 

Minerva's  agitation  had  now  taken  the 
form  of  sobbing,  and  as  she  mopped  her 
face  with  her  apron  it  began  to  dawn  upon 
her  that  she  had  not  been  in  danger  until  she 
took  to  the  tree.  She  helped  herself  to  a 
handful  of  berries,  and  they  seemed  to  do 
her  good,  for  she  listened  to  Ethel's  account 
of  what  had  happened  and  punctuated  it  with 
what  at  first  were  chuckles,  and  when  the  hu 
mour  of  the  thing  had  soaked  in  far  enough 
were  her  irresistible  guffaws,  so  provocative 
of  laughter  in  others. 

"We  were  picking  berries  and  enjoying 
ourselves  very  much  when  I  heard  a  rustling 
and  looked  up,  and  there  was  a  cow.  I  said 
rather  hastily,  'Oh,  look,'  and  Minerva 


MINEKVA'S   PASTORAL  89 

looked  and  screamed  out,  'It's  a  bear,'  and 
before  I  could  tell  her  what  it  was  she  had 
gone  up  that  tree  as  if  she  had  lived  in  the 
country  all  her  life.  She  begged  of  me  to 
come  up  with  her,  but  I  got  over  my  fear 
of  cows  some  time  ago."  This  with  a  con 
scious  blush,  for  Ethel  knew  that  in  times 
past  she,  too,  had  fled  from  a  cow. 

I  turned  to  Minerva.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  you  never  saw  a  cow  before  ?  There 
are  cows  in  the  city." 

"I  never  saw  one." 

"Haven't  you  seen  pictures  of  them  on 
groceries  ? ' ' 

"I  spec  I  have,  but  comin'  thataway  at 
me  it  looked  like  a  bear." 

"Very  like  a  bear,"  said  I.  "Well,  it's 
lucky  you  weren't  hurt.  You  can  thank  the 
cow  that  you  didn't  break  your  back.  I  hope 
you  didn't  break  hers." 

She  went  off  into  yells  of  laughter  at  this 
mild  bit  of  humour,  and  cheerfulness  now  be 
ing  restored,  I  thanked  Bert  for  giving  me 
a  lift  and  told  him  I  didn't  care  to  go  any 
farther. 

He  left  us  and  we  went  on  picking  berries, 


90        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  before  the  pail  was  full  Minerva  had  a 
chance  to  pat  the  fearsome  beast  that  had 
so  nearly  frightened  her  to  death.  Now  that 
she  knew  it  was  merely  a  cow,  the  source  of 
the  milk  and  cream  of  which  she  was  so  fond, 
she  had  no  fear  at  all,  being  in  that  respect 
different  from  Ethel,  who  in  the  beginning 
had  feared  cows  because  they  were  cows, 
just  as  certain  other  women  fear  mice  be 
cause  they  are  mice,  and  as  Lord  Roberts 
fears  a  cat  because  it  is  a  cat  and  not  "the 
enemy." 

The  whistle  at  the  Wharton  Paper  Mill 
told  us  it  was  twelve  o  'clock,  and  like  hungry 
mill  hands  we  started  for  home.  Minerva 
walked  ahead  with  both  pails,  and  Ethel  and 
I  followed. 

Half  way  up  Minerva  burst  into  song. 

' '  How  volatile ! ' '  said  I. 

"The  worst  is  over.  We'll  have  no  more 
trouble  with  her,"  said  Ethel. 

So  lightly  do  we  attempt  to  read  the  fu 
ture. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    'CORDEEN    COMES. 

THAT  afternoon  Bert  brought  an  ex 
press  package  to  Minerva. 

To  her  it  was  a  package  of  sunlight. 

In  fact  it  was  the  accordeon. 

As  soon  as  Minerva  opened  the  bundle  she 
stopped  cooking  dinner  and  began  to  play 
on  her  beloved  instrument.  Such  sounds  I 
had  hoped  never  to  hear  again,  and  I  went 
out  into  the  kitchen  and  told  her  that  I  was 
sorry,  but  that  I  could  not  stand  it  in  the 
house. 

She  looked  up  from  the  instrument,  and 
there  was  a  world  of  appeal  in  her  eyes.  I 
had  never  seen  so  much  expression  in  them, 
Music  certainly  had  power  over  her. 

"Oh,  Mist.  Vernon,  it'll  be  dark  after  the 
dishes  is  washed,  an'  I  don*  dah  go  in  the 
woods,"  said  she.  "I'll  play  sof." 

"Yes,  but  you'll  delay  dinner." 
91 


92        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

She  actually  came  over  and  laid  her  brown 
hand  on  my  sleeve. 

"Mist.  Vernon,"  said  she,  in  honey  tones, 
"I'm  on'y  gettin'  dinner  at  five  to  please 
myse'f.  If  I  git  it  at  six  Mis.  Vernon  will 
like  it  better.  She  said  so.  I  won't  play 
long." 

But  I  was  determined  not  to  listen  to  such 
music  as  that  in  the  house.  So  I  went  out 
doors. 

Ethel  was  sitting  at  the  window  of  her 
bedroom.  When  she  saw  me  she  put  her 
hands  to  her  ears  and  made  a  grimace. 

I  made  signs  to  her  to  come  down. 

"Let  us  be  diplomatic,"  said  I,  when  she 
had  come  down  stairs.  "Let  us  go  for  a 
long  walk." 

The  hideous  "upside  down  music"  assailed 
us  until  we  were  fully  a  half  a  mile  away. 

"Ethel,"  said  I,  "we  haven't  gone  about 
this  matter  of  keeping  Minerva  in  the  right 
way. ' ' 

"Meaning  what?"  said  Ethel. 

"Meaning  that  we  are  trying  to  make  her 
like  a  thing  she  does  not  understand.  The 
country  is  an  unknown  land  to  her.  We 


THE    'CORDEEN   COMES          93 

must  try  to  make  her  acquainted  with  it.  and 
perhaps  she  will  love  it  so  much  that  we  will 
have  hard  work  getting  her  to  go  back  with 
us." 

"Well,  goodness,  that  is  hardly  worth 
striving  for,"  said  Ethel.  "There  are  only 
three  months  up  here,  but  there  are  nine 
months  in  the  city,  and  we  want  her  there." 

"Well,  we  won't  educate  her  up  to  that 
point,  then,  but  we  must  do  something  tq 
make  her  more  contented.  She  is  just  as 
much  a  human  being  as  you  and  I,  and  I  dare 
say  that  her  summer  is  just  as  much  to  her 
as  ours  is  to  us.  We  are  depriving  her  of 
recreation  pier  amusements,  of  ice  cream,  of 
band  concerts,  and  what  are  we  giving  her  in 
return?  We  ought  to  go  out  and  get  some 
one  of  her  own  colour  to  come  and  call  on 
her." 

"Don't  be  absurd,  Philip.  Minerva  is  not 
a  farce." 

"No,  she  is  only  getting  to  be  a  tragedy. 
But  I'm  not  absurd.  Next  to  Minerva's  love 
for  the  city  is  her  love  for  people.  If  we 
can't  make  her  love  the  country,  we  may  be 
able  to  make  her  love  the  people  of  the  coun- 


94        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

try,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  Bert  if  there  is 
not  some  respectable  man  or  woman  who 
could  be  hired  to  come  here  and  call  on  Mi 
nerva  every  day." 

Ethel  looked  at  me  expecting  to  see  a  twin 
kle  or  so  in  one  or  another  of  my  eyes,  but 
I  was  not  thinking  of  twinkling.  I  never  was 
so  much  in  earnest.  Minerva  was  plainly 
sorry  that  she  had  been  impertinent  and  I 
was  going  to  be  eminently  just. 

We  dismissed  Minerva  from  our  thoughts, 
or  at  least  I,  man-like  dismissed  her  from 
mine.  I  don't  suppose  that  Ethel  was  able 
to  do  so,  but  we  did  not  talk  of  her  again, 
preferring  to  drink  in  the  beauties  of  nature 
and  call  each  other's  attention  to  each 
draught.  Rare  is  that  nature  lover  who  can 
silently  absorb  the  loveliness  of  a  landscape. 

Nor  would  I  laugh  at  those  who  call  on 
their  companions  for  corroboration  of  their 
views  as  to  views.  It  is  simply  another  way 
of  sharing  delights,  and  that  man  who  gob 
bles  up  a  landscape  and  never  comments 
upon  it  is  not  likely  to  have  kept  silence  from 
Japanese  motives.  They  say  that  the  Jap 
anese  take  the  appreciation  of  beauty  so 


THE    'CORDEEN   COMES          95 

much  as  a  matter  of  course  that  they  never 
refer  to  the  rapturous  tints  in  an  orchard  of 
peach  blossoms  or  the  tender  greens  of  a 
spring  landscape,  feeling  that  it  would  be  an 
insult  to  invite  attention  where  attention  was 
already  bestowed;  but  with  us  of  the  West, 
when  a  man  refrains  from  speaking  about 
this  lordly  oak  or  that  graceful  dip  of  hill, 
or  those  clouds  dying  on  the  horizon  in  every 
conceivable  colour,  the  chances  are  that  he  is 
thinking  of  his  business  affairs,  and  the 
clouds  die  and  the  hills  dip  and  the  tree 
spreads  not  for  him. 

Many  of  these  graceful  thoughts  I  ex 
pressed  in  fitting  words  to  Ethel,  so  it  will 
be  seen  that  our  walk  was  not  without  in 
terest,  and  as  she  in  turn  said  many  quotable 
things,  which  I  now  forget,  the  walk  was  pro 
longed  until  to  our  astonishment  we  found 
that  it  was  seven. 

"Hungry  as  a  bear?"  asked  I. 

"Indeed  I  am.  Probably  Minerva  has 
been  holding  dinner  in  the  oven  this  half 
hour,  and  it  will  not  be  fit  to  eat." 

We  hastened  our  steps,  and  in  a  few  min 
utes  our  home  burst  upon  us — also  more 


96        MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

strains  from  the  accordeon — together  with 
plunks  from  a  banjo. 

We  heard  the  plunks  before  we  saw  who 
was  supplying  them,  but  in  a  moment  the 
musician  was  seen  to  be  seated  upon  the 
front  verandah. 

He  was  a  tall,  good-looking  mulatto,  and 
I  at  once  recognized  him  as  being  the  man 
who  had  driven  the  constable  over  that  morn 
ing. 

Ethel  stopped  short,  and  became  angry  at 
the  same  instant.  I  stopped  short  and  be 
came  amused  at  the  same  instant,  thus  show 
ing  how  the  same  acts  will  affect  different 
natures;  also  showing  how  a  person  can  do 
two  things  at  once  and  do  them  both  well. 
For  there  is  no  question  but  that  our  stops 
were  as  short  as  they  could  have  been,  and 
our  anger  and  amusement  were  well  con 
ceived  and  well  carried  out. 

Ethel  was  too  angry  to  speak.  I  was  too 
amused  to  keep  silent. 

"It's  scandalous,"  said  Ethel,  as  soon  as 
she  could  find  words. 

"It's   just  right,"  said  I.    "And  it  has 


THE    'CORDEEN   COMES          97 

given  me  a  good  idea.    After  dinner  I  will 
tell  you  about  it." 

The  ban  joist  had  seen  us  first,  and  had  told 
Minerva,  and  both  had  jumped  to  their  feet, 
the  man  to  bow  and  Minerva  to  run  into  the 
kitchen,  where  she  was  followed  by  her 
friend. 

By  the  time  we  had  come  up  to  the  front 
path  to  the  veranda  the  coloured  man  had 
come  out  from  the  kitchen  and  in  most  mel 
odious  tones  said, 

"Minerva  wanted  to  know  if  you  would 
like  dinner  served  on  the  piazza,  the  evening 
being  so  pleasant." 

Delmonico  never  had  a  head  waiter  with 
the  aplomb,  the  native  dignity,  the  utter  un 
consciousness  of  self  that  this  superbly  built 
man  displayed. 

I  felt  that  we  had  suddenly  fallen  heir  to 
a  fortune,  and  a  group  of  retainers,  and  try 
ing  to  play  my  part  to  the  best  of  my  ability 
I  said, 

"By  all  means — er — " 

"James." 

"By  all  means,  James.    Is  it  ready?" 

"I  will  ascertain  in  a  moment  sir,"  said 


98        MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

this  yellow  prince,  and  retired  to  the  kitchen, 
whence  he  emerged  in  a  moment. 

"A  slight  retention  in  the  oven  in  regard 
to  the  roast,  sir,  but  the  soup  will  be  ready 
immejutly." 

Ethel  had  gone  up  stairs  at  once.  I  nodded 
my  head  gravely  and  said, 

"Very  well,  James,"  and  then  I  went  up  to 
make  my  toilet. 

"The  tide  has  turned,  Ethel,"  said  I  when 
I  reached  the  room.  "A  kind  Providence  has 
sent  the  grandson  of  some  Senegambian  king 
to  wait  on  us  and  to  amuse  Minerva  between 
meals.  Put  a  ribbon  in  your  hair,  and  I 
will  put  a  buttercup  in  my  button  hole,  or  I 
will  dress,  if  you  say  so,  and  we  will  put  on 
the  style  that  befits  us. ' ' 

"Who  is  that  man?"  said  Ethel. 

"In  fairy  stories  wise  people  never  ques 
tion.  They  accept.  This  is  the  constable's 
driver,  and  he  was  probably  attracted  here 
by  the  dread  strains  of  the  accordeon.  Let 
us  make  the  most  of  him.  I  am  quite  sure 
he  is  going  to  serve  dinner,  and  I  feel  it  in 
my  bones  that  he  will  do  it  well." 

And  he  did  do  it  well  and  the  dinner  was 


THE    'CORDEEN    COMES          99 

worth  serving.  It  had  been  delayed  by  the 
concert,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that,  and  it 
was  nearly  eight  when  we  sat  down  to  it, 
but  the  silent,  graceful  fellow,  moved  noise 
lessly  in  and  out  from  kitchen  to  veranda, 
the  whippoorwills  sang  to  us,  the  roses  filled 
the  air  with  fragrance,  and  a  silver  crescent 
in  the  west  rode  to  its  couch  full  sleepily. 

This  may  sound  poetic.  If  it  does  it  is 
because  we  felt  satisfied  with  everything  once 
more,  and  satisfaction  is  poetry. 

After  the  dinner  was  over  Ethel  went  out 
into  the  kitchen  about  something  and  found 
Minerva  smiling  and  bustling  around  to  get 
the  dishes  washed  in  a  hurry. 

"Mis.  Vernon,"  said  she,  "that  man  wants, 
to  know  if  Mist.  Vernon  has  any  work  for 
him  to  do." 

"That  man"  was  out  on  the  veranda 
clearing  away  the  dessert  dishes. 

"I'll  see,"  said  Ethel.  "How  did  he  hap 
pen  to  come  here?" 

"Why,  Mis.  Vernon,  that  man  is  related 
with  my  folks.  His  aunt's  brother  married 
my  aunt's  niece.  I  don'  know  what  that 
makes  him  to  me,  but  he  remembers  me  when 


100      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

I  was  a  little  gal  in  New  York,  and  he  recker- 
nised  me  as  soon  as  he  saw  me.  He  says — " 

The  approach  of  James  prevented  her  from 
saying  anything  further,  but  as  soon  as  he 
had  gone  out  for  the  coffee  cups,  she  con 
tinued  : 

"He  says  that  he's  on'y  be'n  workin'  with 
that  policeman  while  he  was  manufacturin' 
hay,  an'  he'd  like  to  do  odd  jobs." 

"I'm  afraid  they'll  have  to  be  real  odd 
ones,"  said  I  when  Ethel  told  me  what  had 
transpired.  "But  if  it  is  going  to  make 
Minerva  contented  we  will  have  him  come 
and  paint  the  porch  green  to-morrow,  and 
red  the  day  after." 

I  sat  and  smoked  peacefully  for  a  few  min 
utes.  James  had  taken  the  last  saucer  out 
to  the  kitchen,  and  Ethel  sat  by  my  side,  look 
ing  out  into  the  waning  light  of  day. 

Suddenly  there  came  the  strains  of  "Roll 
Jordan,  Roll,"  in  the  form  of  a  soprano  and 
bass  duet. 

Minerva's  playing  on  the  accordeon  had 
not  prepared  me  for  the  sweetness  of  her 
voice,  which  is  perhaps  not  strange,  and  of 
course  I  knew  nothing  of  James 's  capabilities 


THE    'CORDEEN    COMES        101 

as  a  vocalist  until  I  heard  his  rich,  mellow 
baritone  blend  with,  her  warm  soprano. 

The  effect  was  delightful.  Not  since  I 
heard  the  original  Fiske  Jubilee  singers, 
twenty-five  years  ago,  when  a  boy  of  six  or 
seven,  have  I  heard  any  negro  music  that 
satisfied  me  as  this  did. 

''Ethel,"  said  I,  "we  are  It.  Is  there  a 
local  charitable  organization  or  a  Village  Im 
provement  Society,  or  a  Mother's  Meeting 
that  needs- help?" 

"What  are  you  after  now,"  said  Ethel. 

"Minerva's  pleasure  first  and  foremost, 
but  also  the  amelioration  of  the  bitter  lot  of 
parties  at  present  unknown,  by  means  of  a 
concert  to  be  given  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Vernon,  by  James  and  Minerva." 

"Philip!"  said  Ethel. 

"As  near  as  I  can  make  out,"  said  I,  "I 
am  devoting  this  summer  to  the  building  up 
of  your  health  by  a  life  in  the  country,  free 
from  cares.  To  do  that  we  must  have  a 
girl,  and  there  is  but  one  girl  that  we  know 
we  can  have,  and  that  is  the  girl  we  do  have. 
Can't  you  imagine  how  Minerva  will  take  fire 
at  the  thought  of  singing  in  a  concert?" 


102      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

"I  suppose  she  would  like  it,"  said  Ethel, 
''but  how  do  you  know  that  we  can  get  peo 
ple  to  come?" 

"We  needn't  worry  about  that  part  of  it 
at  first.  First  of  all  we  must  begin  our  re 
hearsals,  and  they  will  take  time.  Do  you 
appreciate  that  fact?  And  very  first  of  all, 
I'll  go  out  and  interview  James." 

"Philip,"  said  Ethel,  rising  and  looking 
at  me  with  a  vexed  expression,  "I  wish  you 
had  more  dignity.  I  '11  go  out  and  tell  James 
that  you  wish  to  speak  to  him." 

1  i  Not  at  all, ' '  said  I.  ' '  What !  You  go  out 
and  tell  him  ?  Wait.  Sit  where  you  are,  and 
all  will  be  well." 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  in  holiday  mood, 
for  I  was  sure  that  I  had  struck  on  an  ar 
rangement  that  would  tide  us  over  at  least 
a  fortnight. 

I  went  out  to  the  kitchen. 

"Minerva,"  said  I,  "Mrs.  Vernon  would 
like  to  speak  to  you." 

I  then  went  back  to  Ethel  and  said,  "I 
have  asked  Minerva  to  come.  When  she 
comes,  tell  her  to  send  James.  We  will  do 
this  thing  in  style  while  we  are  about  it. ' ' 


THE    'CORDEEN   COMES         103 

Minerva  came  in,  her  face  all  smiles. 
"Minerva,  ask  your  friend  James  to  come 
out,"  said  Ethel.    "Mr.  Vernon  wishes  to 
speak  to  him." 

"That's  it!  That's  style!"  said  I,  as  soon 
as  Minerva  had  gone.  "Now  is  our  dignity 
preserved,  and  James  feels  that  he  has  fallen 
among  people  who  know  what's  what.  Do 
you  want  to  be  present  at  this  interview?" 

Ethel  decided  that  she  did  not,  and  went 
into  the  parlour  as  James  came  out  of  the 
kitchen. 

"Did  you  want  to  speak  to  me,  sir?"  said 
James  respectfully. 

"Yes,  James.     What  is  your  last  name?" 
"Mars.     James  Montgomery  Mars." 
"Minerva  tells  me,  James,  that  you  are 
looking  for  work." 

"Yes,  sir;  for  congenial  work." 
"Would  singing  be  congenial  work?" 
"Singing's     a     pleasure,     sir.     It     ain't 
work." 

"I've  been  thinking,"  said  I,  "that  what 
this  section  needed  was  a  concert  for  the 
benefit  of  something.  Now,  Mrs.  Vernon 
likes  to  make  other  people  happy,  and  while 


104      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

we  were  listening  to  you  and  Minerva  sing, 
it  struck  us  both  that  a  concert  of  old  planta 
tion  melodies  like  those  you  could  sing,, 
would  be  well  received,  say  at  the  Congrega 
tional  Church  at  Egerton.  I  would  pay  you 
a  coachman's  wages  for  staying  here  and 
practising,  but  all  the  money  taken  in  would 
go  to — " 

"The  Hurlbert  Hospital.  That's  what 
they  always  do  with  the  money  up  here,  sir. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  see,  like  the  Liverpool  Sailors' 
Home." 

He  did  not  understand  my  allusion,  but  I 
did  not  explain.  Allusions  that  are  explained 
lose  half  their  charm. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  idea?" 

"I  think  it's  all  right,  sir.  But  between 
singing  what  would  I  do?" 

"Do  you  love  nature?" 

"I  don't  know's  I  know  what  you  intend  to 
mean,  sir." 

"Does  it  make  you  happy  to  be  out 
doors?" 

"Oh,  sure.  I'm  an  out-door  boy,  all 
right." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Vernon,  in  her  desire  to  ben- 


THE    'CORDEEN    COMES        105 

efit  humanity — You  understand  me,  James  1 ' ' 

"Oh,  I  get  the  words  all  right.  I  don't 
rightly  see  your  drift." 

' '  What  I  want  to  say  is,  that  Mrs.  Vernon 
wishes  to  make  Minerva  love  out  doors  as 
well  as  you  do,  and  she  is  going  to  teach  her 
some  of  the  things  that  a  country-bred  man 
like  you  knows  by  heart.  How  to  tell  an  oak 
from  a  maple  at  twilight." 

' '  Oh,  that  kind  has  been  here  before.  The 
Wheelocks,  that  had  this  house  last  year, 
went  out  in  the  woods  with  these  here  glasses 
and  they  brought  things  up  close  with  them. 
They  never  cared  for  nature  unless  they  had 
their  glasses." 

"James,  I'm  afraid  it  is  apt  to  degen 
erate  into  something  like  that,  but — James, 
if  I  tell  you  something,  will  you  respect  my 
confidence  ? ' ' 

"Will  you  please  say  that  in  different 
words?" 

I  thought  a  moment  while  I  chose  simpler 
words. 

"Will  you  say  nothing  to  Minerva,  if  I  tell 
you  something?" 

"Oh,  sure." 


106      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

"Well,  this  concert  and  these  nature  les 
sons  are  solely  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
Minerva's  mind  off  herself  and  the  city.  She 
wants  to  go  back  to  New  York,  and  we  want 
her  to  stay  here  all  summer,  and — " 

I  explained  it  all  to  him,  and  the  fellow 
seemed  to  enter  right  into  the  spirit  of  the 
thing,  and  assured  me  that  he  would  do  all 
he  could  to  help. 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"Down  in  the  valley  a  bit.  When  shall  I 
show  up  in  the  morning?" 

"The  earlier,  the  better.  I  want  you  and 
Minerva  to  begin  to  practise  for  the  concert 
right  away.  Do  you  sing  by  note." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  have  you  any  book  of  negro  melo 
dies." 

"No,  sir.  Wouldn't  do  me  much  good,  sir, 
as  I  can't  read  music." 

* '  Oh,  I  thought  you  said  you  sang  by  note. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir.  Note  by  note,  right  along.  I 
have  a  good  ear,  but  I  can't  read  music." 

<  <  Very  well,  James.  Come  in  the  morning 
prepared  to  sing  note  by  note,  by  ear,  any- 


THE    'CORDEEN    COMES          107 

thing  you  can  remember.  Do  you  know 
'Swing  Low,  Sweet  Chariot V  " 

"Indeed  I  do.  Oh,  I  know  all  the  jubilee 
songs,  and  all  the  rag-time  songs,  and  I 
guess  we  can  fill  up  a  couple  of  hours  singin' 
in  the  old  Congregational  Church." 

He  chuckled. 

"What  is  it,  James?" 

"Why,  I  was  thinkin'  that  here  the  white 
folks  sing  down  there  every  Sunday  in  the 
church,  and  if  I  care  to  go  an'  hear  them  it 
don't  cost  me  a  cent,  but  if  Minerva  and  me 
sing  there  in  that  same  church,  the  white 
folk '11  have  to  pay  money  to  hear  us.  'Tain't 
gen'elly  that  way." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   NAKED   SCUTTEREE. 

THE  next  morning  was  one  of  those  days 
that  sometimes  come  in  the  summer, 
when  the  most  desirable  thing  to  do  is 
to  sleep.     The  air  was  soft  and  damp,  and 
sleep  inviting,  and  when  something  awoke 
me  at  six  o'clock,  I  drowsily  looked  at  my 
watch  and  dreamily  realised  that  I  was  not 
compelled  to  catch  any  train,  but  could  sink 
into  delightful  unconsciousness  once  more. 

Just  what  had  waked  me  I  did  not  know, 
but  before  I  went  off  again  I  heard  the  voice 
of  James  out  doors,  and  then  I  heard  the 
voice  of  Minerva,  evidently  at  her  open  win 
dow,  saying: 

"I'll  be  down  in  a  few  minutes." 
And  then  I  dropped  off,  to  be  awakened 
again  in  what  seemed  like  a  moment  by  these 
beautiful  words: 


108 


A   NAKED    SCUTTERER         109 

"Oh,  de  debbil  he  fought  he  had  me  fas'. 

Le'  my  people  go. 
But  I  fought  I'd  break  his  chains  at  las', 

Le'  my  people  go. 
Go    down    Moses,    way   down   in   Egypt 

la-an', 
Tell  ol'  Phar'o'  fo'  to  le'  my  people  go." 

It  was  melodious,  it  was  harmonious,  but 
it  was  also  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"Oh,  won't  they  stop,"  said  Ethel,  sleepily. 

"Not  by  my  command,"  said  I.  "They 
are  practising  for  the  concert." 

* '  Oh,  I  'm  so  sleepy !    What  time  is  it? " 

"Oh,  'twas  a  dark  an'  stormy  night, 

Le'  my  people  go; 
When  Moses  an'  the  Israelite, 
Le'  my  people  go." 

"Make  them  go,"  said  Ethel,  her  eyes  wide 
open,  but  her  mouth  passing  from  the  words 
to  a  yawn. 

"And  it's  such  a  beautiful  morning  to 
sleep/'  said  I. 

But  as  verse  after  verse  rolled  out  sonor 
ously,  sleep  fled  from  the  room  in  dismay, 
and  we  followed,  and  for  the  first  time  since 


110      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

we  bad  come  to  the  country,  found  ourselves 
as  one  might  say,  up  before  breakfast.  The 
morning  air  was  delightful,  but  we  knew 
the  danger  that  lurks  in  morning  air  on 
empty  stomachs — or  we  thought  we  knew  it. 
If  there  is  no  danger  in  such  exposures  I 
make  my  humble  apology  to  those  who  hold 
the  contrary  opinion.  Personally  I  do  not 
know  what  is  right  to  do — that  is,  hygienic- 
ally  right  to  do,  at  any  given  moment. 

May  I  be  forgiven  for  digressing  at  this 
point,  in  order  that  I  may  touch  on  a  topic 
that  has  been  near  my  heart  for  a  long  time, 
but  has  never  had  a  chance  for  utterance 
before.  I  was  brought  up  to  believe  that 
water  with  meals  was  a  very  bad  thing,  so 
I  went  without  water  at  meals,  and  thrived 
like  a  green  bay  tree. 

One  day  a  doctor  told  me  that  water  with 
meals  was  the  one  thing  needed  to  bring  out 
the  tonic  properties  of  food. 

I  immediately  began  to  drink  water  with 
my  meals  in  perfect  trust  and  confidence,  and 
— I  continued  to  thrive  like  a  green  bay 
tree. 

When  I  was  a  boy,  I  was  told  that  tomatoes 


A   NAKED    SCUTTERER         111 

were  exceedingly  bad;  that  they  had  no  nu 
tritive  qualities,  and  that  it  was  but  a  few 
short  years  since  they  had  been  called  "love 
apples"  and  had  rightly  been  considered 
poisonous. 

With  unquestioning  faith  I  refrained  from 
eating  the  juicy  vegetables  and  remained 
free  from  all  the  diseases  that  follow  in  their 
train.  I  had  not  tasted  a  tomato,  and  I  did 
not  know  what  I  was  losing. 

One  day  when  feeling  a  little  off  my  feed, 
a  young  doctor  friend  said,  "What  you  need 
is  the  acid  of  a  tomato." 

With  an  unfaltering  trust  I  approached  a 
tomato  and  ate  it  and  realized  the  many, 
many  years  that  were  irrevocably  gone; 
years  in  which  I  might  have  eaten  the  suc 
culent  fruit — for  a  tomato  is  a  fruit;  there's 
no  question  of  it. 

After  that  day  I  made  a  point  of  eating 
tomatoes  whenever  I  could  and  I  remained 
free  from  the  diseases  that  had  been  said  to 
follow  in  their  train. 

I  blindly  follow  the  dictum  of  the  last  doc 
tor  who  speaks  and  it  is  to  that  fact  that  I 
attribute  my  good  health. 


112      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

I  read  somewhere  not  long  since  that  the 
best  way  to  keep  free  from  colds  was  to  sit 
in  draughts  as  much  as  possible  and  I  be 
lieve  there  is  a  good  deal  of  sound  sense  back 
of  that  dictum,  but  Ethel  will  not  let  me  try 
the  virtue  of  the  thing. 

No  doctor  has  told  me  that  it  is  right  to 
take  long  walks  on  an  early  morning  empty 
stomach  and  so  I  have  not  done  it,  but  I  have 
an  English  friend  who  used  to  walk  twenty 
miles  or  so  to  breakfast.  The  English  are 
always  walking  twenty  miles  to  somewhere, 
and  look  at  them.  A  fine  race! 

The  Americans  are  not  much  given  to  walk 
ing,  but  look  at  them  —  a  fine  race ! 

Everything  is  certainly  for  the  best — al 
ways,  everywhere. 

We  walked  around  to  the  kitchen  and  found 
Minerva  on  her  knees  before  the  fire  watch 
ing  insufficient  kindling  feebly  burn  while 
James  sat  on  the  kitchen  table  swinging  one 
long  leg  and  teaching  her  a  rag-time  melody. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  as  we  came  in  and  gave 
us  a  hearty  good  morning  and  then  burst 
into  a  good-natured  laugh  that  showed  all 
his  beautiful  white  teeth. 


A   NAKED   SCUTTERER         113 

"Made  an  early  start,  sir." 

"Yes,  James.  It  isn't  absolutely  neces 
sary  for  rehearsals  to  begin  quite  so  early," 
said  I.  "It  woke  us  up." 

"There,  now,  Minerva,  what  did  I  tell 
you?  I  was  sure  they'd  hear  it." 

"No  question  about  your  filling  the 
church. ' ' 

"  'Deed  I'm  awful  sorry,"  said  Minerva, 
"Wakin'  you  so  early,  an'  the  fire  not  kin 
dled." 

"Well,  never  mind.  We'll  drink  some 
milk  and  then  we'll  go  for  a  little  walk,  but 
I  think  that  to-morrow  perhaps  the  rehears 
als  needn't  begin  until  after  breakfast. 
There'll  be  a  long  morning  before  you  and 
you  can  rehearse  in  the  morning  and  take 
the  nature  study  in  the  afternoon." 

"Yas'r,"  said  Minerva,  a  shade  of  reluc 
tance  in  her  tone  which  I  attributed  to  the 
mention  of  nature  study.  Minerva  evidently 
wanted  life  to  be  one  grand  sweet  song. 

All  that  morning  snatches  of  melody 
floated  over  the  landscape  in  the  which  land 
scape  we  were  idly  lolling  under  the  trees 
reading,  and  I  think  that  household  duties 


114      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

were  neglected,  but  that  James  was  not 
averse  to  work  was  shown  by  the  fact  that 
he  carried  great  armfuls  of  kindling  wood 
into  the  kitchen. 

When  Ethel  went  out  there  just  before 
lunch  she  found  the  west  window  banked  up 
to  the  second  sash  with  kindling  wood. 

Ethel  likes  to  have  the  whole  house  in  ship 
shape  order,  and  this  unsightly  pile  of  wood 
in  the  kitchen  went  against  the  grain.  There 
was  enough  there  to  last  a  week  and  mean 
time  the  kitchen  was  robbed  of  that  much 
daylight. 

James  sat  on  the  door-sill  idly  whittling 
a  piece  of  kindling  and  Minerva,  temporarily 
songless,  was  getting  lunch  ready. 

"Oh,  James,"  said  Ethel  after  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  situation,  "I  wish  if  you 
haven't  anything  else  to  do  that  you  would 
pile  that  kindling  wood  out  in  the  wood 
shed." 

She  told  me  he  burst  into  his  hearty  laugh, 
and,  rising  with  alacrity,  he  said : 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Vernon,"  and  for  the 
next  half  hour  he  was  busily  employed  in 


A  NAKED   SCUTTEBEE         115 

undoing  what  he  had  done  in  the  half  hour 
before. 

"Oh,  it  will  be  easy  to  find  employment 
for  him  along  those  lines,"  said  I  when  she 
told  me.  "We'll  just  make  him  do  things  and 
undo  them  and  that  laugh  of  his  will  keep 
Minerva  sweet  natured  and  he'll  earn  his 
wages  over  and  over  again." 

"Well,  it  seems  sort  of  wicked  to  make 
a  human  being  do  unnecessary  things  just 
for  the  sake  of  making  him  undo  them 
again,"  said  my  mistress  of  economics. 

"In  cases  like  that  the  end  justifies  the 
means." 

After  lunch  that  day  Ethel  interrogated 
Minerva  as  to  her  feelings. 

"Oh,  Mis.  Vernon,  James  is  like  human 
folks  to  me.  He's  in  a  way  different  from 
you  an'  Mist.  Vernon." 

"Do  you  mean  you  think  he's  better?" 
said  Ethel,  more  to  draw  Minerva  out  than 
for  any  other  reason. 

"No,  but  he's  more  folksy.  You  an'  Mist. 
Vernon,  after  all's  said  an'  done,  is  white. 
It  ain't  dat  he's  kinder  dan  you,  but  he's 


more  my  kind.  My,  he'd  be  lovely  in  de 
city." 

Minerva  sighed. 

"Minerva,  don't  think  about  the  city, 
you  wouldn't  have  such  a  chance  to  sing  to 
gether  in  the  city  as  you  have  here.  I 
couldn't  get  up  such  a  concert  as  this  is  going 
to  be  in  the  city,  but  up  here  you  have  just 
that  much  more  freedom." 

"Minerva,"  continued  Ethel,  "You  needn't 
scrub  the  kitchen  floor  this  afternoon.  I 
want  you  and  James  to  join  a  little  school 
that  I  am  going  to  get  up. ' ' 

"Never  did  like  school,"  said  Minerva. 

"Well,"  said  Ethel,  feeling  that  she  had 
approached  the  subject  in  the  wrong  way, 
"I  don't  mean  a  school  where  you  have  to 
sit  in  a  stuffy  room  and  do  sums  on  a  board 
and  learn  to  read  and  write.  I  mean  that  we 
are  going  out  into  the  woods  to  learn  some 
thing  about  the  denizens  of  the  woods  and 
fields." 

"  Yas'm,"  said  Minerva. 

Minerva  was  an  emotional  being.  There 
was  never  any  doubt  of  that.  I  think  it  was 
the  next  day  that  Ethel  and  I  were  return- 


A   NAKED   SCUTTERER         117 

ing  from  a  walk  and  we  saw  James  leave  the 
kitchen  and  go  around  to  the  front  of  the 
house  as  if  he  were  looking  for  some  one. 

When  he  saw  us  he  said: 

"Have  you  seen  Minerva!" 

We  told  him  we  had  not,  but  just  then  we 
all  saw  her  coming  out  of  the  woodshed  with 
a  handful  of  kindlings,  her  cat,  still  some 
what  sticky,  perched  on  her  shoulder. 

She  entered  the  kitchen  and  I  was  just 
about  to  ask  James  a  question  about  the 
Hurlbert  Home  when  the  now  familiar  shriek 
ing  voice  of  Minerva  came  to  us  through  the 
open  kitchen  window. 

"Ow,  ow,  take  it  away.     Ow,  I'm  bitten." 

Ethel,  alarmed,  started  for  the  house.  I, 
nonplussed,  stood  still.  James  burst  out 
laughing. 

A  moment  later  Minerva  came  running  out 
of  the  front  door,  her  apron  over  her  head. 

"What  is  it,  Minerva ?"  said  Ethel,  tak 
ing  hold  of  her  and  uncovering  her  face. 

"Ow,  Mis.  Vernon,  dere's  der  stranges' 
animal  in  the  kitchen.  Tain 't  a  dog  an '  it  has 
a  mouth  like  hinges,  an'  I'm  afraid  it'll  eat 
Miss  Pussy  up." 


118      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"What  a  child  you  are,  Minerva,"  said 
Ethel.  " There's  no  animal  there.  I'm  sure 
of  it." 

"Let's  see  what  it  is,"  said  I,  and  turned 
to  speak  to  James,  but  he  had  disappeared. 

I  could  hear  his  hearty  voice  shattering 
the  air  with  laughter,  but  I  could  not  see  him. 

"Come,  we'll  go  in  and  see  this  beast," 
said  I.  "Perhaps  it's  a  rat." 

"  'Deed  it  ain't  a  rat.  I  ain't  ago  in'  in. 
It's  scutterin'  all  over  de  place,  an'  it's  stark 
naked. ' ' 

Scuttering  all  over  the  place  and  stark 
naked.  A  light  burst  on  me. 

Ethel  and  I  went  in  hand  in  hand,  because 
her  hand  sought  mine.  I  can  not  say  that 

I  was  afraid. 

\ 

When  we  reached  the  sitting  room  we  could 
hear  the  scattering  together  with  other 
noises  that  were  not  pleasant,  and  I  realized 
that  to  metropolitan  Minerva  the  animal  must 
be  very  terrifying  if,  indeed,  he  proved  to  be 
what  I  thought  he  was. 

Minerva  had  evidently  slammed  the  kitchen 
door  after  her,  for  it  was  shut. 

I  opened  it  and  the  stark  naked  scutterer 


A   NAKED    SCUTTERER         119 

turned  out  to  be  a  little  pig  not  much  bigger 
than  Miss  Pussy  and  as  pink  and  nude  as 
Venus  rising  from  the  sea. 

The  little  chap  was  frantic  and  he  rushed 
through  the  dining  room  into  the  sitting 
room  and  thence  to  the  front  porch. 

Minerva  had  been  standing  there  wringing 
her  hands,  with  her  back  to  the  house.  It 
therefore  happened  that  she  did  not  see  the 
innocent  little  porker  coming.  His  only  idea 
was  to  get  out  of  doors  and  away,  but  he 
blundered  in  doing  so,  for  he  ran  plump  into 
Minerva,  who  sat  down  on  him  as  promptly 
and  then  in  her  agitation  she  rolled  off  the 
front  steps  to  the  front  path,  and  the  squeal 
ing  piggy,  freeing  himself  from  her  skirts, 
ran  off  down  the  road. 

"Ow,  he's  bit  me.  He's  bit  me,"  said 
Minerva,  sitting  up  in  the  path  and  rubbing 
her  knee. 

I  am  not  entirely  at  home  in  natural  his 
tory,  but  I  do  not  think  it  is  the  habit  of  little 
pigs  to  bite,  and  I  told  Minerva  so,  but  she 
insisted  that  she  was  bitten,  and  nothing 
would  calm  her  until  Mrs.  Ethel  took  her  into 


120      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

the  kitchen  and  satisfied  her  that  she  had  not 
been  bitten  at  all. 

Minerva's  plight  had  its  funny  side,  and 
James  evidently  thought  so,  for  he  now  came 
into  view  and  said, 

"She's  the  most  fidgety  girl  I  ever  saw. 
I  brought  her  a  present  of  a  little  pig  and 
left  it  in  the  kitchen  for  her,  and  the  pig  has 
never  been  away  from  its  mother  before,  and 
it  was  most  as  much  frightened  as  Minerva 
was." 

"What  she  needs  is  lessons  in  natural  his 
tory,  James.  The  other  day  she  mistook  a 
cow  for  a  bear,  and  the  only  animals  she 
seems  to  know  are  horses  and  dogs  and  cats." 

"I  guess  I'll  go  get  that  pig,"  said  James. 
We  could  hear  the  little  animal  squealing.  It 
was  running  madly  around  in  the  lower  lot. 

"I'll  help  you,  James." 

Afterwards  I  was  sorry  I  had  said  I  would 
help  James.  I  had  never  chased  a  pig  be 
fore,  and  I  did  not  know  they  could  cover 
ground  so  quickly  or  so  unexpectedly.  Twice 
I  was  bowled  over  in  my  efforts  to  grab  the 
slippery  beast,  and  by  the  time  that  he  was 
caught  I  was  winded  and  perspiring. 


A   NAKED   SCUTTERER         121 

"I'll  take  it  into  the  kitchen  and  show  it 
to  Minerva  and  tell  her  how  it  happened," 
said  James. 

"Yes,  do,"  said  I.  "The  only  way  to  get 
her  broken  to  pigs  is  to  show  her  that  they 
do  not  intend  any  harm." 

We  went  into  the  kitchen  and  found  her 
laughing  hysterically,  while  Ethel  was  pick 
ing  up  pieces  of  crockery  that  decorated  the 
floor.  It  seems  that  the  lunch  dishes  were 
piled  up  preparatory  to  washing  them  and 
piggy  had  run  against  the  leg  of  the  table 
and  dislodged  them  with  destructive  effect. 

James  entered  the  kitchen,  holding  the  pig 
clasped  to  his  ample  chest. 

"There,  Minerva,  you  see  the  animal  is 
perfectly  harmless." 

"My,  my,  I  never  did  see  such  a  mouth," 
said  she. 

Ethel  does  not  like  to  touch  strange  ani 
mals,  but  she  wished  to  show  Minerva  how 
perfectly  innocuous  this  little  piggy  was,  and 
so  she  stroked  its  pink  little  snout  and  the 
next  instant  the  little  fellow  had  her  finger 
in  its  mouth  and  sucked  it  as  if  it  were  a  stick 
of  candy. 


122      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

This  at  first  frightened  Minerva  and  it  did 
not  please  my  fastidious  wife,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  object  lesson  she  said : 

"Now,  you  see,  Minerva,  this  pig  is  even 
more  harmless  than  a  cat,  for  a  cat  has  claws 
and  this  pig  has  only — " 

Alas,  for  Ethel.  The  pig  showed  what  it 
could  do  by  inserting  its  pearly  teeth  in  her 
finger. 

She  snatched  her  hand  away  in  a  moment, 
but  Minerva's  confidence  in  pigs  had  been  so 
lessened  that  we  told  James  that  he  would 
better  take  his  gift  elsewhere. 

For  my  part  I  was  not  sorry  to  see  the 
shiny  little  creature   go.     Pigs  have  never 
appealed  to  me  as  household  pets.     My  ar 
cestors  came  from  England. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

WE  PLAN  A  CONCERT. 

IT  was  the  day  after  we  had  given  up  that 
particular  spot  in  the  woods  as  a  tryst- 
ing  place  and  we  were  all  driving  to  the 
village  in  Bert's  wagon. 

We  were  going  for  two  reasons ;  Ethel  in 
tended  buying  Minerva  a  new  dress  (for  out 
doors),  and  I  was  going  to  find  out  something 
about  the  concert  which  I  proposed  giving. 

Ethel  and  I  took  turns  in  driving,  while 
James  and  Minerva  sat  on  the  back  seat. 

Great  billows  of  clouds  lapped  the  shores 
of  blue  above  us  and  cast  huge  shadows  on 
the  hillside;  shadows  that  moving  changed 
the  entire  aspect  of  the  places  over  which 
they  passed. 

Bobolinks  launched  themselves  and  their 
songs  at  the  same  time  and  gave  to  the  day 
a  quality  that  no  other  songster  is  ever  able 


123 


to  impart.  It  was  a  morning  to  inspire  hap 
piness. 

"What  a  heavenly  country  this  is,"  said 
Ethel;  "I'd  like  to  live  here  until  the  leaves 
color." 

"I  dare  say  it  would  be  nice  here  in  the 
winter  time,  too." 

"Oof!"  shuddered  Ethel.  "Pretty  but 
dreadful.  How  can  anyone  keep  warm  in  the 
country  in  the  wintertime?" 

Her  remark  had  been  heard  by  Minerva, 
and  she  said  to  James : 

"Do  folks  leave  here  in  winter?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  James.  "Winter's  the 
best  time  of  the  year  up  here.  I  jus'  like 
the  cold.  Coastin'  from  here  to  the  village, 
a  mile  and  a  half.  Everybody  does  it.  And 
skating!  Umm.  You  ought  to  stay  up  here 
in  winter." 

"Oh,  lawdy,  if  it's  so  sad  in  the  summer 
I'd  die  in  the  winter.  Don't  the  wind  howl 
like  a  dog?" 

"Like  a  thousand  dogs,  but  I  like  it.  You 
come  up  here  an'  visit  my  old  mother  in  the 
winter,  an'  I'll  teach  you  to  skate  and  you'll 
never  want  to  go  back." 


WE   PLAN   A   CONCERT        125 

"Imagine  Minerva  here  in  winter,"  whis 
pered  Ethel  to  me.  "Poor  thing.  She 
would  die  of  the  horrors.  But,  do  you  think 
she  is  more  contented?" 

* '  I  certainly  do.  She  is  going  to  have  new 
clothes — Is  that  a  sheep?" 

It  turned  out  to  be  a  rock.  "There  are 
no  sheep  around  here,"  said  Ethel.  "'Bert 
said  so." 

'  *  I  wonder  if  Minerva  would  be  frightened 
at  sheep?" 

"She  might  be.  The  most  peaceful  ani 
mals  aren't  always  the  most  peaceful  look 
ing.  I  think  a  cow  is  much  more  diabolical 
than  a  lion  as  far  as  looks  go.  A  lion  is  kind 
of  benign  and  I  dare  say  that  a  lion  that  has 
just  eaten  a  man  looks  sleepy  and  contented 
and  good-natured  as  he  licks  his  chops." 

"I  think  the  most  dreadful  looking  beast 
in  the  whole  menagerie  is  the  goat,  although, 
come  to  think  of  it,  he  is  more  likely  to  be 
found  in  the  back  yard  than  in  the  menagerie, 
and  I  dare  say  that  Minerva  knows  him  like 
a  book.  Yes,  he  has  the  devil  beaten  to  a 
pulp,  as  Harry  Banks  would  say,  and  yet  he 
never  has  the  bad  manners  to  spit  like  the — 


126      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

what  was  that  beautiful  beast  that  spit  in  the 
face  of  that  pompous  little  man  down  at 
Dreamland?" 

"Oh,  you  mean  the  llama.  Wasn't  that 
funny?  And  he  did  look  so  innocent.  And 
now  that  spitting  is  a  misdemeanor  and  the 
practice  is  going  out,  I  suppose  the  llama 
will  steadily  increase  in  value — " 

"Do  you  mind  if  we  sing.  Mr.  Vernon?" 
said  James,  respectfully. 

I  thought  a  minute.  If  James  had  been 
driving  and  Minerva  was  by  his  side  on  the 
front  seat  it  would  have  been  perfectly  nat 
ural  for  Ethel  and  me  to  break  out  into  song 
on  such  a  perfect  day  in  such  a  lonely  place. 

As  the  conditions  were  reversed ;  as  I  was 
driving  and  James  and  Minerva  were  on  the 
back  seat,  it  seemed  to  me  perfectly  proper 
that  they  should  be  the  ones  to  break  out  into 
roundelays,  and  I  told  them  to  break  out — • 
couching  the  permission  in  other  language. 

They  began,  after  a  whispered  consulta 
tion,  and  the  song  which  they  sang  was  as 
follows : 


WE   PLAN  A   CONCERT         127 

"Ma-ah  ol'  missus  said  to  me 

(Gwan  to  git  a-horne  bime  by) 
Whe-en  she  died  she'd  set  me  free 

(Gwan  to  git  a-home  biine  by) 

Oh  dat  watermiyun 

(Lamb  er  goodness  you  must  die) 
I'se  gwan  fer  to  jine  de  cont'aban'  chillun 

(Gwan  ter  git  a-home  bime  by). 

"Whe-en  she  died  she  died  so  po' 
(Gwan  ter  git  a-home  bime  by). 

She  lef '  me  wuss'n  I  was  befo' 
(Gwan  ter  git  a-home  bime  by). 

They  had  started  the  chorus  of  the  second 
verse,  throwing  themselves  into  it  with  all 
the  abandon  of  bobolinks — black  bobolinks 
• — when  we  came  to  a  turn  in  the  road  and 
heard  a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  a  smart  turn 
out  belonging  to  summer  people  from  Eger- 
ton  drove  by. 

I  recognized  in  the  ladies  who  were  lean 
ing  languidly  back  on  the  cushioned  seats 
two  New  Yorkers  whom  we  met  at  a  tea  last 
winter  and  who  seemed  to  take  an  interest  in 
Ethel,  so  much  so  that  I  told  her  at  the  time 


128      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

that  if  she  had  had  any  social  ambitions  I 
was  sure  that  here  were  stepping  stones. 

But  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  stepping 
stones  marveled  greatly  at  the  spectacle  and 
the  sounds  we  presented.  Driving  a  chorus 
out.  We  looked  back  after  we  had  passed 
and  found  that  they  were  rude  enough  to  be 
looking  at  us. 

"Do  you  care,  Ethel?" 

' '  Well,  I  wish  they  had  been  some  one  else. 
It  must  have  looked  silly." 

"Not  at  all.  It  looks  perfectly  business 
like.  Or  it  will  look  so  later.  When  Mrs. 
Guernsea  and  her  daughter  see  the  announce 
ments  of  the  concert  they  will  realize  that 
we  were  doing  a  little  preliminary  advertis 
ing  to  whet  the  appetites  of  the  populace. 
They  will  come  to  the  concert.  Mark  my 
words." 

As  we  were  now  within  sight  of  the  houses 
of  the  village,  I  told  James  that  I  guessed 
we'd  better  postpone  further  melody  until 
our  return,  as  we  might  be  taken  for  a  circus, 
rather  than  a  concert,  and  the  rest  of  the  way 
was  made  in  silence. 

While  Ethel  was  buying  clothes  for  Mi- 


WE   PLAN   A   CONCERT         129 

nerva,  I,  by  the  advice  of  James,  sought  out 
Deacon  Fotherby  of  the  Second  Congrega 
tional  Church. 

He  presided  over  the  destinies  of  a  shoe- 
store,  and  when  I  went  in  he  was  trying  to 
force  a  number  eight  shoe  on  a  number  nine 
foot  of  a  Cinderella  of  uncertain  age,  whose 
face  was  red — from  his  exertions. 

I  waited  patiently  about  until  the  good 
deacon  got  a  larger  shoe,  called  it  a  number 
seven  (may  the  recording  angel  pardon  him) 
and  slipped  it  on  the  foot  of  Cinderella,  who 
departed  simpering. 

He  came  up  to  me  in  a  business-like  way. 

"Is  this  Deacon  Fotherby ?" 

"My  name  is  Fotherby,  but  I  sell  shoes 
week  days." 

"Well,  Mr.  Fotherby,  I  don't  want  to  buy 
any  shoes  to-day,  but  I  do  want  to  know 
whether  you  are  interested  in  the  Hurlbert 
Home." 

The  deacon's  manner  underwent  a  remark 
able  change.  Up  to  that  time  he  had  been 
the  attentive  salesman.  Now  his  face  soft 
ened,  he  motioned  me  to  a  seat  and  sat  down 
beside  me. 


130      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

"Interested?  I'm  wrapped  up  in  it. 
What  do  you  want!  To  help  it  or  be  helped 
by  it?" 

"Both  in  a  way,"  said  I,  as  I  thought  of 
what  the  concert  was  going  to  accomplish 
for  me. 

"I  am  in  a  position  to  give  a  concert  of 
negro  melodies  for  the  benefit  of  your  home. 
I  control — in  a  measure — two  colored  per 
sons  who  have  fine  voices,  and  it  occurred 
to  me  that  the  villagers  and  perhaps  the  sum 
mer  people  would  attend  a  concert  given  in 
your  church. 

"Yes,  they  would,"  said  he,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "And  we  could  provide  some  attrac 
tions  out  of  our  own  ranks.  There's  a  male 
quartette  in  the  Sunday-school — " 

"White?' 'said  I. 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  he. 

"Well,  I'm  a  person  entirely  devoid  of  race 
prejudice,  but  you  must  remember  that  this 
is  New  England,  Massachusetts  in  fact,  and 
if  we  wish  to  make  a  success  of  this  concert 
we  must  not  mix  the  two  races.  I  see  no 
reason  personally  why  your  white  quartette 
should  not  sing  on  the  same  stage  with  our 


WE   PLAN   A   CONCERT         131 

colored  singers,  if  they  sing  as  well,  but  I 
am  quite  sure  that  the  public  would  not  pat 
ronize  the  concert  if  we  advertised  it  as  a 
mixed  affair." 

The  good  deacon  rose  from  his  seat  and 
said,  "Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  consider  that  a 
colored  man  has  just  as  white  a  soul  as  a 
white  man." 

I  also  rose  and  told  him  that  I  could  not 
swear  as  to  the  color  of  any  soul;  that  souls 
might  be  a  delicate  pink  for  all  I  personally 
knew  to  the  contrary.  I  also  told  him  that 
I  would  not  object  to  attending  a  concert  of 
beautiful  voices  that  came  out  of  white  and 
black  throats  (I  was  not  flippant  enough  to 
say  that  all  throats  were  red)  but  that  I  knew 
my  fellow  Yankees  too  well  to  think  that  they 
would  care  to  come  to  a  concert  where  whites 
and  blacks  sang  on  the  same  stage. 

"It  might  go  in  the  South,"  said  I,  "where 
their  ideas  about  such  things  are  different 
from  ours,  but  up  here  if  you  want  our  col 
ored  concert  to  be  a  success  you  must  let  all 
the  singing  be  done  by  colored  folks  and  all 
the  hearing  be  done  by  white." 

At  this  point  the  talk  drifted  to  the  negro 


132      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

question  and  what  a  problem  it  was  getting 
to  be  and  I  found  that  we  thought  alike  on 
most  points,  and  I  finally  made  him  under 
stand  that  I  was  acting  from  diplomatic  mo 
tives  entirely,  and  because  I  understood  the 
temper  of  the  New  Englanders  so  well. 

"Remember  that  it  was  in  a  town  in  Con 
necticut,"  said  I,  "that  a  colored  man  was 
ejected  from  a  white  man's  restaurant,  and  it 
is  in  New  England  that  little  colored  children 
have  a  hard  time  at  school,  because  they  are 
black,  and  for  no  other  reason.  Being  in 
New  England,  the  country  of  liberty,  you 
must  give  me  the  liberty  of  arranging  my 
concert  so  that  it  shall  be  a  success,  and 
therefore  (I  smiled)  there  must  be  no  mix 
ture  of  races  on  the  stage." 

We  decided  that  the  early  part  of  Septem 
ber  would  be  a  good  time  to  give  it,  as  the 
haying  would  by  that  time  have  been  done 
and  we  could  count  on  a  larger  audience. 

On  the  way  home  James  told  me  that  he 
had  a  brother  and  a  little  sister,  who  could 
be  brought  into  the  concert,  and  that  with 
them  he  could  furnish  some  very  nice  quar 
tettes. 


WE    PLAN   A   CONCERT         133 

Ethel  looked  at  me  meaningly,  and  said, 

1  'Minerva  might  go  there  and  practise. 
Do  they  live  at  your  mother's?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

I  realized  that  it  would  be  better  for  them 
to  practise  at  his  house  than  at  ours,  because, 
while  the  practice  of  music  makes  perfect,  it 
sometimes  also  makes  maniacs. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   HOESE   IN   THE   KITCHEN. 

TV TOW,  I'll  tell  Mis.  Vernon,  if  you  do 
.1.^1      dem  tricks.     Stop." 

"Why,  he's  perfectly  harmless, 
Minerva.     Look,  I'm  holding  him." 

"Don'  you  let  him  get  at  me.  Mah  good 
ness,  he  has  a  head  like  a  horse.  Ooh, 
Lawdy,  where 's  he  gone?" 

It  was  raining  and  Ethel  and  I  were  in  the 
sitting  room  when  we  heard  these  loud  words 
and  then  Minerva  burst  into  the  room. 

She  had  her  skirts  held  at  a  height  that 
would  have  been  all  right  for  ballet  dancing, 
but  Minerva  is  not  a  ballet  dancer  and  Ethel 
bade  her  remember  herself. 

Now  it  seemed  to  me  that  that  was  exactly 
what  she  was  doing.  Fright  is  memory  of 
self  as  nearly  as  I  can  make  out,  and  Minerva 
was  evidently  frightened  at  a  new  animal  that 
"looked  like  a  horse." 

134 


THE    HORSE    IN    THE    KITCHEN    135 

I  had  a  mental  picture  of  a  pony  that  James 
had  smuggled  into  the  kitchen  and  then  I  re 
membered  that  New  York  was  not  a  stranger 
to  ponies  and  that  perhaps  in  her  childhood 
Minerva  might  have  ridden  a  pony  in  Cen 
tral  Park  or  at  Coney  Island.  No,  it  must 
be  some  other  beast. 

"What  is  the  matter.  Don't  you  see  that 
Mr.  Vernon  is  reading  to  me?" 

"But  it  jumped  at  me!" 

"What  jumped  at  you?"  said  I  sternly. 
If  there  is  anything  that  I  dislike  it  is  to  be 
interrupted  when  I  am  reading.  If  inter 
ruptions  ever  came  in  the  midst  of  prosy 
descriptions  I  would  not  mind  it  at  all.  I 
could  even  stand  it  in  the  midst  of  a  digres 
sion  (like  the  present  one),  but  interrupters 
have  the  uncanny  knack  of  timing  their 
breaks  so  that  just  as  the  author  has  led  up 
to  a  brilliant  mot  and  the  moment  is  psycho 
logically  perfect,  they  say  their  little  say 
and  when  the  reading  is  resumed  the  humour 
or  the  wit  of  the  sentence  has  evaporated. 

James  now  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"What  jumped  at  Minerva,  James?" 

"It  was  on'y  a  grasshopper,  sir.    Never 


136      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

saw  anyone  afraid  of  a  grasshopper  before. ' ' 
"Why,  Minerva!"  said  Ethel.     "You  said 
it  looked  like  a  horse. ' ' 

James,  with  a  chuckle,  stooped  and  picked 
something  from  the  floor.  It  bent  its  legs 
for  a  spring  as  he  put  his  hand  down  and 
again  Minerva  screamed.  It  leaped  with  a 
thud  against  his  palm  and  he  held  it  between 
thumb  and  forefinger  and  said, 
"She's  right.  It  does  look  like  a  horse. " 
I  had  never  noticed  the  resemblance  be 
fore,  but  there  was  no  gainsaying  it,  once  our 
attention  had  been  called  to  it.  I  imagine 
that  if  the  head  were  increased  to  horse  size 
and  the  body  and  legs  were  in  proportion,  it 
would  be  a  more  formidable  looking  beast 
than  the  hyena.  And  if  a  hyena  were  re 
duced  to  grasshopper  size  he  would  be  as 
"cute"  as  a  caterpillar. 

"Minerva,"  said  Ethel,  "sit  down.  You 
may  go,  James.  I  wish  you  would  not  scare 
Minerva. ' ' 

"Never  thought  she'd  scare  so  easy,  Mrs. 
Vernon,'"  said  he  respectfully.  He  was  al 
ways  respectful.  He  went  out  into  the  wood 
shed  to  split  some  kindlings.  He  had  already 


THE    HORSE    IN    THE    KITCHEN    137 

split  enough  to  last  us  all  of  a  winter,  but  it 
was  healthful  exercise  and  I  kept  him.  at  it 
when  he  was  not  singing  or  mowing  the  lawn. 

"Minerva,  I  don't  suppose  that  there  is  a 
more  harmless  insect  in  the  world  than  a 
grasshopper,"  said  Ethel. 

"What  are  they  for?"  said  Minerva. 

"Why — er,"  said  Ethel,  while  I  held  my 
book  up  before  my  face  discreetly. 

"Why,  they  are  to  hop  in  the  grass." 

"Oh,"  said  Minerva. 

"Yes,  they  can  hop  many  times  the  length 
of  their  own  bodies." 

"Oh,"  said  Minerva. 

Ethel  made  a  mental  calculation. 

"I  should  say,  Minerva,"  said  she,  "that 
a  grasshopper  can  hop  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  times  his  own  length.  How  tall 
are  you?" 

"I'm  five  feet  three,"  was  her  unexpected 
answer. 

"Well,  call  it  five  feet,"  said  Ethel,  with 
a  very  serious  face.  "If  you  had  the  power 
of  a  grasshopper  you  could  hop  six  hundred 
feet.  That  is  to  say,  you  could  hop  a  long 
city  block." 


138      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

The  idea  of  Minerva  hopping  from  Seventh 
Avenue  to  Eighth  (for  instance)  was  too 
much  for  me  and  I  began  to  cough  so  hard 
that  I  had  to  go  up  stairs  for  a  trochee. 

When  I  came  down  Ethel  was  saying, 

" You've  heard  the  noises  in  the  grass, 
haven't  you?" 

"  'Deed  I  have,"  said  Minerva,  dismally. 

"Did  you  know  that  the  grasshoppers  make 
a  great  deal  of  that  noise?" 

"No'm,"  said  Minerva,  her  mouth  wide 
open. 

"They  do.  And  how  do  you  suppose  they; 
do  it?" 

"They  blow,  I  suppose." 

"No,  they  don't  blow.     Do  they,  Philip?" 

"No,  very  few  grasshoppers  can  blow. 
They  can  blow  away,  but  they  make  that 
noise  by — er — why,  they  make  that  noise  - 

The  words  of  a  college  song  came  into  my 
head,  "I  can  play  the  fiddle  with  my  left 
hind  leg." 

"They  make  fiddles  of  themselves  and 
play,  Minerva. ' ' 

Minerva  looked  at  me  seriously. 

"That's  it,  Minerva,"  said  Ethel  eagerly. 


THE    HORSE   IN    THE    KITCHEN    139 

"They  scrape  their  wings  in  some  way  and 
that  makes  the  sound.  You  don't  know  how 
many  things  there  are  to  learn  about  the 
country  and,  Minerva,  it  isn't  half  as  dan 
gerous  as  the  city.  To-morrow  if  it  is  pleas 
ant,  we'll  go  out  and  try  to  catch  a  grass 
hopper  playing  his  little  fiddle.  You  may 
go,  now,  Minerva." 

Minerva  went  out  and  closed  the  kitchen 
door  and  the  next  minute  the  house  shook. 
I  thought  of  the  powder  mills  at  Mildon. 
Again  the  house  shook. 

"It  is  Minerva  hopping,"  said  Ethel. 

"Pretty  close  to  six  hundred  feet,  from 
the  sound,"  said  I. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

' '  THE  SIMPLE  LIFE. ' ' 

I  HAD  strung  up  a  hammock  between  two 
trees  in  front  of  the  house  and  days 
when  Ethel  did  not  feel  like  walking 
she  used  to  lie  in  it  while  I  sat  by  her  side  and 
read  to  her.  She  would  have  been  glad  to 
read  to  me  some  times,  but  if  there  is  any 
thing  I  dislike  it  is  to  be  read  to.  I  can  never 
follow  what  is  being  said  unless  I  have  a  book 
in  front  of  me,  and  besides  as  I  cannot  knit 
and  do  not  know  how  to  draw  it  would  be 
time  wasted  for  me  to  sit  still  and  listen  to 
reading. 

We  are  so  built,  the  most  of  us,  that  we 
consider  we  are  wasting  time  unless  our 
hands  are  moving.  If  a  woman  sits  with  her 
hands  in  her  lap  thinking  great  thoughts  she 
is  manifestly  idle.  But  if  she  sits  embroid 
ering  tasteless  doilies  and  thinking  of  noth 
ing,  she  has  found  something  for  her  hands 

140 


"THE    SIMPLE    LIFE"  141 

to  do  and  Satan  is  foiled  again.  How  often 
he  is  foiled  these  days. 

As  I  say,  I  do  dislike  to  be  read  to,  so  while 
Ethel  sits  and  crochets  or  knits  or  does  fancy 
sewing,  I  sit  by  her  side  and  read,  and  it  is  a 
very  pleasant  way  of  passing  the  time.  Her 
embroidery  is  worth  while,  and  I  think  there 
is  to  be  found  no  such  practice  in  language 
as  reading  aloud. 

I  recommend  it  to  all  lispers  and  persons 
with  uncertain  pronunciations. 

While  we  were  reading  who  should  drive 
up  but  the  Guernseas,  the  people  who  had 
heard  our  open  air  concert. 

I  saw  they  were  about  to  stop,  so  I  laid 
down  my  book  and  went  out  to  greet  them. 

"Won't  you  come  into  the  house?"  said 
I,  and  Ethel  rising,  seconded  the  invitation. 

"Thank  you,  no  it  is  such  a  lovely  day 
we'll  sit  here.  John,  you  may  come  back  in 
twenty  minutes." 

John  was  their  very  elegant  driver,  and 
after  hitching  the  horses  to  the  stone  post,  he 
touched  his  hat  and  walked  away. 

Ethel  and  I  stood  by  the  carriage  and 
passed  the  commonplaces  of  the  day  for  a 


142      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVKES 

minute  or  two  and  then  the  absurdity  of  the 
situation  dawned  on  me.  Here  were  our  two 
distinguished  friends  doing  us  the  honour  of 
calling  on  us,  and  they  were  sitting  in  the 
most  comfortable  seats  in  a  very  ornate  car 
riage,  while  my  good  wife  and  I  stood  at  their 
feet  as  it  were  and  received  their  call.  I  pre 
fer  sitting  at  people's  feet,  after  the  manner 
of  the  Jews  of  old,  so  I  went  into  the  house 
and  brought  out  two  dingy  hair-cloth  chairs, 
much  to  Ethel's  mortification,  and  we  sat 
down  on  them. 

So  sitting  we  were  not  more  than  abreast 
of  the  floor  of  the  carriage,  and  we  addressed 
all  our  remarks  to  those  above  who  evidently 
had  no  sense  of  humour,  for  they  never 
smiled  at  the  situation  once. 

"We  want  to  know,"  said  Mrs.  Guernsea, 
languidly,  "whether  you  are  living  this  sim 
ple  life  that  Charles  Wagner  preaches." 

"I  haven't  read  his  book,  but  our  life  is 
simple.  I  think  we  are  both  very  simple. ' ' 

I  looked  at  Ethel  and  she  and  I  looked  up 
to  the  perches  above  us,  and  I  know  that  she 
was  thinking  that  we  were  very  simple  to 
allow  a  thing  of  this  kind  to  happen,  instead 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          143 

of  insisting  that  our  grand  visitors  come  at 
least  to  the  verandah  and  meet  us  upon  an 
equal  footing. 

"Caroline,  they  are  leading  the  simple 
life.  Fancy !  Was  that  why  you  went  driv 
ing  with  those  colored  people  yesterday?" 

Ethel  started  to  tell  the  facts  in  the  case, 
but  I  rudely  interrupted  and  said, 

"Mrs.  Guernsea,  in  the  simple  life  all  men 
are  equal,  but  in  real  life  there  are  many  in 
equalities.  The  woman  you  saw  on  the  back 
seat  was  Minerva,  our  estimable  cook,  while 
the  man  was  James,  our  man-of-all-play. " 

I  pronounced  his  title  quickly  and  she  did 
not  notice  the  variation. 

"This  is  the  land  of  the  free  and  theo 
retically  all  men  are  free  and  equal.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  all  men  are  not  so,  but  up  here 
while  we  lead  the  simple  life  we  try  to  make 
those  with  whom  we  come  in  contact  believe 
that  they  are  so.  You  met  us  yesterday,  and 
yesterday  I  was  driving  Minerva  and  James 
out.  Had  you  met  us  to-day,  James  would 
have  been  driving  Mrs.  Vernon  and  me  out. ' ' 

Both  Mrs.  Guernsea  and  her  lackadaisical 
daughter  accepted  what  I  had  to  say  in  the 


spirit  in  which  I  wished  them  to  accept  it; 
as  a  truth  of  the  simple  life,  and  it  was  so 
different  from  their  own  lives  that  for  the 
nonce  it  interested  them  to  hear  about  it. 
Therefore,  despite  Ethel's  reproving  brow- 
liftings,  I  went  on. 

"In  our  life  here  in  this  cottage  Minerva 
does  all  the  cooking,  because  she  is  the  best 
cook  of  the  four,  just  as  I  do  all  the  reading 
aloud,  because  I  am  the  best  reader ;  and  Mrs. 
Vernon  does  all  the  embroidery,  because  she 
is  the  best  embroiderer;  and  James — well, 
we  have  not  yet  found  what  James  can  do 
best,  but  there  is  one  thing — his  spirits  are 
never  depressed  and  he  heartens  us  all.'* 

"How  curious.  And  do  you  believe  that 
such  a  state  of  things  would  be  possible  in  a 
more  complex  life,  in  New  York,  for  in 
stance?" 

"Mrs.  Guernsea,  have  you  ever  tried  hav 
ing  Mr.  Guernsea  take  your  men  and  your 
maids  out  driving  in  the  Park?" 

"Why,  no!" 

' '  Try  it,  when  you  go  back, ' '  said  I.  ' '  They 
will  be  pleased  beyond  any  doubt." 


"THE    SIMPLE    LIFE"  145 

1 '  But  your  servants  were  singing.  Did  not 
that  annoy  you!" 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Guernsea,  it  is  one  of  the 
first  principles  of  the  simple  life  not  to  be 
annoyed.  Didn't  you  think  their  voices 
sweet  ? '  ' 

"Yes,  but  it  seemed  so — so  unconvention 
al." 

"The  simple  lifers/'  said  I,  "abhor  con 
ventions  that  already  exist.  They  aim  to  cre 
ate  new  conventions  and  live  up  to  them. 
We  felt  the  need  of  song.  Neither  Mrs.  Ver- 
non  nor  myself  can  sing  very  acceptably. 
Both  Minerva  and  James  are  blessed  with  de 
lightful  voices,  so  they  sang  for  us  without 
a  word  of  demurring." 

"Would  they  sing  now,  do  you  suppose? 
It  was  really  very  lovely." 

"I  have  no  doubt.  I'll  go  and  ask  them. 
But—" 

I  hesitated.  The  precious  old  humbug,  so 
devoid  of  humour,  was  condescending  toward 
the  simple  life  during  a  single  ennuied  after 
noon.  I  wondered  if  I  could  make  her  become 
a  disciple  of  it  for  a  few  short  moments; 
hence  my  hesitation.  I  resolved  to  risk  it, 


146      MINES  VA '8  MANCEUVKES 

and  with  an  elevation  of  my  eyebrows  di 
rected  at  Ethel  which  meant  "Keep  out," 
I  said: 

"In  the  simple  life  anything  like  conde 
scension  jars.  If  Minerva  and  James  con 
sent  to  sing  I  must  ask  that  they  be  allowed 
to  sit  in  the  carriage  and  that  you  make  one 
of  us  on  the  ground.  I  will  get  chairs." 

1 '  Oh,  no,  we  will  stand. ' ' 

And  the  daughter  said  languidly,  ""We 
sometimes  drive  over  to  the  country  fairs, 
and  it  is  awfully  jolly  to  stand  alongside  the 
carriage  and  watch  the  races.  We  have  done 
it  on  the  other  side,  too." 

* '  Oh,  I  know  they  always  do  it  there, ' '  said 
I,  with  enthusiasm.  "Many's  the  picture 
I've  seen  of  it." 

I  went  in  and  found  Minerva  ironing,  while 
James  was  blacking  the  stove. 

"Will  you  please  tidy  yourselves  up  a  bit 
and  come  out  and  sing  for  two  of  our 
friends?"  said  I.  "They  are  influential  city 
people,  and  they  may  not  be  able  to  attend 
the  concert.  You're  to  sit  in  their  carriage 
and  sing." 

They  were,  of  course,  delighted,  being  two 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          147 

children,  and  I  left  them  tidying  up,  and  hur 
ried  back. 

Ethel  had  gone  into  the  house  for  some 
thing,  but  she  soon  came  out  with  a  bowl  of 
blue  berries  and  two  napkins. 

""Will  you  help  yourselves!"  said  she. 

Mrs  Guernsea  looked  at  her  daughter,  and 
her  daughter  looked  at  Mrs.  Guernsea.  They 
were  too  well  bred  to  suggest  that  anything 
was  missing,  but  they  were  evidently  thinking 
of  saucers  and  spoons.  I  came  to  the  rescue, 
knowing  that  Ethel  had  entered  into  my  mad 
ness. 

''More  simple  life,  but  you  don't  have  to 
do  it.  Still,  berries  never  taste  so  luscious 
as  when  eaten  from  the  hand." 

I  held  the  bowl  solemnly  before  them,  they 
removed  their  gloves,  ate  dainty  mouth- 
fuls  of  berries,  and  their  delight  in  the  flavour 
was  very  real. 

"Oh,  I  wish  that  it  were  possible  to  do  this 
at  home." 

I  bowed.  "It  needs  only  for  Mrs.  Guern 
sea  to  do  it  to  make  it  possible  everywhere." 

While  they  were  eating  Minerva  and 
James  came  out,  and  if  Minerva  was  not 


148      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

the  best  looking  woman  there,  James  was  the 
best  looking  man — by  all  odds.  I  was  proud 
of  their  appearance. 

I  was  a  little  afraid  that  the  Guernseas 
would  show  a  certain  amount  of  liauteur,  but 
they  were  evidently  trying  to  enter  into  the 
simple  life,  and  would  obey  all  its  rules  for 
the  nonce.  It  was  a  break  in  their  sadly 
monotonous  lives. 

"  Minerva  and  James,  these  are  Mrs. 
Guernsea  and  her  daughter,  Miss  Guernsea, 
and  they  wish  you  to  sing  some  of  your 
songs." 

Both  Mrs.  Guernsea  and  the  daughter 
smiled  very  seriously,  and  I  helped  them  to 
alight  from  the  carriage. 

They  took  their  stand  on  the  green  sward, 
and  as  I  would  not  have  felt  comfortable  to 
remain  seated  with  them  standing,  I  left  my 
seat,  and  so  Ethel  was  the  only  one  who  had 
a  seat  at  the  concert. 

After  a  little  self  conscious  giggling  on 
Minerva's  part,  a  giggling  that  James  repri 
manded  with  native  dignity,  the  pair  began 
"Steal  Away." 

The  richly  caparisoned  horses,  to  employ 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"  149 

a  term  that  has  been  faithful  to  writers  these 
many  years,  the  beautiful  Victoria,  hand 
somely  japanned,  the  earnest  songsters  lean 
ing  back  on  the  cushions  and  singing  the 
plaintive  song,  while  the  fashionable  Guern- 
seas  stood  and  drank  it  all  in,  formed  a  pic 
ture  as  unusual  as  it  was  pleasing — to  me. 

Midway  in  the  second  verse,  even  as  the 
Guernseas  had  surprised  us  the  day  before, 
so  to-day  the  pastor  of  the  Second  Congrega 
tional  Church  surprised  us  to-day  by  driving 
past  in  his  buggy,  accompanied  by  his  wife. 

I  think  he  had  meant  to  stop,  but  when  he 
saw  what  was  going  on,  he  simply  opened  his 
mouth ;  his  good  wife  opened  her  mouth,  and 
I  think  the  horse  opened  its  mouth,  and  they 
drove  by. 

They  had  seen  the  simple  life  being  lived 
by  six  persons. 

James  and  Minerva  were  ready  for  an  en 
core,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  either  Mrs. 
Guernsea  or  her  daughter  to  applaud.  They 
contented  themselves  by  saying  it  was  very 
charming. 

But  I  felt  that  the  labourers  were  worthy  of 
their  hire,  and  still  thinking  of  the  simple  life 


150      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  equality,  I  said  to  Mrs.  Guernsea,  in  the 
most  matter  of  course  way: 

"I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't  let  James  take 
Minerva  out  for  a  short  drive  in  return  for 
their  singing?  James  is  an  expert  driver." 

Mrs.  Guernsea  was  not  at  all  hard,  and 
besides,  I  believe  that  she  was  in  a  way  hyp 
notised;  so  with  scarce  a  moment's  hesitation 
she  said: 

"Why,  certainly.  You  won't  be  gone  long, 
I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  no  ma'am.  We'll  just  drive  around 
the  square." 

The  "square"  was  a  stretch  of  country 
road  some  two  miles  in  length. 

James  unhitched  the  horses  and  mounted 
the  driver's  seat,  but  Minerva  sprawled  lux 
uriously  in  the  seat  in  which  she  had  sung. 
James  tightened  the  reins  and  the  horses 
started  off  at  what  is  called  a  spanking  pace 
by  those  who  know. 

What  happened  thereafter  was  told  me  in 
part  by  James,  and  I  will  give  the  substance 
of  it. 

It  seems  that  he  had  not  gone  very  far 
when  he  met  John,  the  driver. 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          151 

Naturally  enough,  when  John  saw  his  mis 
tress  's  horses  coming  toward  him  at  a  pace 
considerably  above  that  indulged  in  by  him 
self  (when  he  was  driving  for  her),  he  was 
at  first  dumbfounded  and  then  angered.  To 
him  what  had  occurred  was  as  plain  as  the 
nose  on  his  face.  Mrs.  Guernsea  had  been 
asked  into  the  house  by  us,  and  this  impudent 
scamp  had  seized  the  opportunity  to  take  his 
girl  out  for  a  ride. 

"Here,  stop.    Get  out  of  that!"  he  yelled. 

James  replied  by  some  piece  of  imperti 
nence  that  served  to  increase  the  coachman's 
anger,  and  picking  up  a  stone  he  let  drive 
at  James,  but  hit  the  flank  of  the  nigh  horse 
instead.  He,  feeling  the  unwonted  sting, 
plunged  forward,  communicated  his  fear  to 
his  mate,  and  the  two  horses  began  to  run 
away. 

We  at  the  house  heard  Minerva's  familiar 
screams,  but  I  set  it  down  to  a  new  animal 
that  had  come  to  her  ken,  as  I  knew  that 
James  was  a  capable  driver. 

As  for  Mrs.  Guernsea,  she  was  telling  us 
something  about  the  evening  that  the  EnglisH 
primate  took  dinner  at  her  house  on  Madison; 


152      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

Avenue,  and  she  did  not  notice  Minerva's 
cries. 

James  had  been  familiar  with  horses  from 
his  boyhood,  and  he  would  have  brought  the 
pair  under  his  control  before  long,  but  John 
was  a  man  of  action,  and  when  he  saw  the 
horses  start  on  a  mad  run,  and  also  saw  a  boy 
(Bert,  in  fact,)  riding  horseback,  he  yelled  to 
him :  ' '  Lend  me  that  horse,  boy.  My  team  is 
being  stolen." 

Bert,  having  just  passed  the  run-a-way, 
jumped  quickly  from  his  mount  and  John 
took  his  place  and  turning  the  horse,  dashed 
after  James. 

The  run-a-ways,  hearing  the  clatter  of 
hoofs  behind  them,  ran  the  harder  and  Mi 
nerva's  screams  steadily  increased  in  pitch 
and  volume. 

At  the  first  turn  James  guided  the  horses 
to  the  left  and  calculated  that  before  the  two 
miles  were  made  they  would  be  winded,  for 
their  gait  was  tremendous. 

As  John  made  the  turn,  crying  "Stop 
thief"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  he  passed  the 
minister  who  had  just  passed  us  and  who  was 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          153 

going  back  to  our  house — for  as  it  turned  out, 
he  wished  to  see  me. 

He  heard  the  hue  and  cry,  and  bidding  his 
wife  get  out  of  the  carriage  and  wait  for  him, 
he  whipped  up  and  started  in  pursuit. 

And  Bert,  deprived  of  his  horse,  but  un 
willing  to  be  deprived  of  so  much  excitement 
cut  across  lots,  that  he  might  see  the  race  on 
its  last  quarter.  This  much  I  afterward 
learned  from  him. 

Through  it  all  James  never  lost  command 
of  the  horses,  nor  Minerva  of  her  voice.  Her 
view  halloo  echoed  over  woodland  and  vale, 
and  came  to  me  from  different  points  of  the 
compass,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  something 
serious  was  the  matter,  and  now  and  again 
I  had  visions  of  bills  for  the  repair  of  a 
carriage. 

When  they  reached  the  last  quarter  I  could 
distinctly  hear  the  "Stop  thiefs!"  of  two 
voices,  and  so  did  Ethel,  but  both  Mrs.  Guern- 
sea  and  her  daughter  were  of  those  people 
who  can  attend  to  but  one  thing  at  a  time, 
and  they  were  busily  engaged  in  talking,  the 
mother  to  me  and  the  daughter  to  Ethel. 

The  way  in  front  of  our  house  is  level  and 


154      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

commands  a  view  of  the  country  for  a  con 
siderable  distance,  and  when  James  started 
on  his  last  quarter,  and  had  attained  a  steep 
hill,  from  where  I  sat  (for  I  had  insisted  on 
bringing  out  chairs  for  us  all)  I  could  see 
Mrs.  Guernsea's  delicately  made  carriage 
swinging  from  side  to  side  of  the  road,  James 
sitting  erect,  his  wrists  tight  against  his  chest 
and  Minerva  letting  out  warwhoops  on  the 
back  seat. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  and  at  last 
Mrs.  Guernsea  heard  the  commotion  and,  put 
ting  up  her  lorgnon  gazed  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  sound  came. 

' '  Why  he  is  going  too  fast ! ' '  said  she.  ' '  He 
will  lather  the  horses." 

I  felt  quite  sure  that  the  lathering  had  al 
ready  been  well  done,  but  I  did  not  say  so. 

"I'm  afraid  they  are  running  away,"  said 
I. 

"No,"  said  Miss  Guernsea,  rising  to  her 
feet  and  using  her  own  eyes,  '  *  He  is  running 
away  with  them.  He  is  being  chased.  Hear 
that?  'Stop  thief!'  " 

Across  the  swampy  land  in  front  of  our 
house  I  saw  the  running  figure  of  a  boy.  He 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          155 

climbed  the  stone  wall  that  edges  the  road, 
and  panting  violently  rushed  up  to  us. 

It  was  Bert.  "Try  to  head  him  off,"  said 
he.  "He's  trying  to  steal  that  turn-out." 

I  did  not  believe  it,  even  then.  When  I  put 
my  confidence  in  a  man  I  don't  like  to  have 
it  disturbed,  and  I  won't  disturb  it  myself 
as  long  as  there  is  a  shadow  of  a  chance  to 
preserve  it.  The  horses  were  running  away, 
but  it  was  not  James'  fault.  I  was  sure  of 
that. 

A  minute  later  the  form  of  a  man  on  horse 
back  was  seen  cresting  the  hill,  and  after  a 
longer  interval  the  minister's  buggy  topped 
the  same  crest. 

The  last  turn  in  the  road  is  a  few  rods 
north  of  our  house,  and  James  guided  the 
horses  skilfully  round  that  turn  and  stopped 
them  in  front  of  our  house.  This  was  partly 
because  Minerva,  having  fainted,  was  no 
longer  screaming,  and  partly  because  John's 
horse  had  stumbled  and  thrown  him.  And 
the  minister  came  in  second,  his  horse  pant 
ing. 

"James,"  said  I  indignantly,  "what  do  you 
mean  by  driving  those  horses  at  such  a  gait?" 


156      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

James,  when  the  horses  had  stopped,  had 
sprung  from  the  seat  and  was  now  at  their 
heads  talking  in  a  low  voice  to  them  and  pat 
ting  them  in  order  to  calm  them. 

Minerva  came  to  herself,  said  '  *  Oh  Lawdy ! 
Are  we  back  again,  already?"  and  climbed 
ungracefully  out  of  the  carriage. 

The  horses  were  white  with  lather,  their 
tongues  lolling  out  of  their  mouths;  and  the 
wagon  was  sadly  scratched.  It  was  a  morti 
fying  moment  for  a  liver  of  the  simple  life. 

"James,  what  happened?"  said  I,  sternly. 

And  then  John  came  limping  up,  with  a 
flesh  wound  on  his  forehead  and  shaking  his 
fist  at  James,  and  with  his  cockaded  hat  in 
his  hand  said  to  Mrs.  Guernsea,  "I  met  him 
trying  to  run  away  with  the  horses  ma'am, 
and  I  tried  to  stop  him.  The  cheek  of  him, 
ma  'am ! ' ' 

James  gave  a  contemptuous  grunt,  and 
leaving  the  horses,  who  had  calmed  down 
wonderfully  under  his  ministrations,  he 
pointed  to  a  cut  on  the  flank  of  the  nigh  horse. 

"That's  what  started  the  trouble, 
madam,"  said  he,  "and  it  was  your  driver 
that  threw  the  stone." 


"THE    SIMPLE   LIFE"          157 

I  will  say  for  Mrs.  Guernsea,  that  she  be 
haved  like  a  thoroughbred.  She  was  evi 
dently  a  woman  who  reasoned  things  out,  and 
she  knew  something  of  the  principles  of  the 
simple  life,  for  she  said : 

"Everybody  meant  well,  I've  no  doubt,  and 
the  thing  is  all  over  now." 

John  was  blanketing  the  sweating  horses. 

"Don't  let  it  worry  you  an  instant,  Mr. 
Vernon, ' '  said  she.  ' '  It  was  all  an  accident. ' ' 

I  tried  to  get  them  to  come  indoors  and 
take  some  refreshment,  for  the  last  few  mo 
ments  had  been  more  strenuous  than  simple, 
but  they  decided  that  it  was  better  for  the 
horses  to  exercise  them  a  little  more  and  so 
they  drove  slowly  home,  and  Bert  went  after 
his  horse  which  had  not  hurt  itself,  and  the 
minister  went  on  to  pick  up  his  wife  whom  he 
had  left  at  the  first  turn. 

"And  it  was  really  all  your  fault,"  said 
Ethel,  smilingly,  after  James  and  Minerva 
had  departed  to  the  kitchen. 

"Well,  it  gave  Minerva  something  to  think 
about  and  made  life  worth  living  for  the 
Guernseas. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AN    UNSUCCESSFUL,   FIASCO. 

I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  I  have  spoken 
of  it  but  by  profession,  trade,  occupation,  I 
am  a  writer.  I  write  short  stories  under  an 
assumed  name  and  therefore  the  telling  of  the 
events  of  the  summer  is  in  a  manner  easy  for 
me. 

But  I  not  only  write  stories ;  I  also  at  times 
read  stories,  and  I  have  been  known  to  recite 
— not  in  an  impassioned  way  but  merely  fool 
ishly.  The  previous  winter  had  been  a  hard 
one  in  more  ways  than  one  for  both  Ethel  and 
myself,  but  toward  the  close  of  it  the  winning 
of  a  prize  in  a  story  competition  had  given  me 
enough  money  to  enable  me  to  knock  off  work 
for  all  summer,  and  it  had  seemed  wise  to 
take  advantage  of  such  a  chance  to  rest  and 
lie  fallow. 

I  did  not  mention  my  occupation  at  the 
start  because  I  was  afraid  that  readers  would 

158 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  MASCO   159 

say,  "Oh,  dear,  this  is  a  story  by  a  literary 
man,  and  nothing  will  happen  in  it. ' '  You  see 
now-a-days  when  men  in  all  walks  of  life 
write  of  what  they  have  done,  and  make  books 
of  their  writings,  the  people  who  read  books 
have  gotten  to  the  point  when  they  look  with 
suspicion  on  a  story  that  is  written  by  a  mere 
professional  writer.  They  say,  "Oh,  he  has 
done  nothing  but  write.  Let  us  read  the  book 
of  the  man  who  has  first  done  and  has  then 
written. ' ' 

But  you  who  have  read  thus  far  may  feel 
in  a  way  friendly  to  Minerva,  and  the  rest, 
and  so  I  take  you  into  my  confidence  and 
make  the  pun  to  you  that  won  for  me  a  rebuke 
from  Ethel.  Letters  spell  livelihood  for  me. 

The  Congregational  Minister,  Egbert 
Hughson,  and  his  wife  returned  to  us  in  a  few 
minutes  and  after  the  moving  accident  had 
been  discussed  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  he 
came  to  the  matter  that  had  brought  him  up. 

He  was  a  smooth  shaven  alert,  Western 
man  of  about  thirty,  I  should  say,  and  I 
marked  him  out  as  a  type  of  the  modern  mus 
cular  Christian,  and  this  guess  proved  to 
have  been  correct.  He  was  an  lowan  who 


160      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

had  come  East  to  study,  had  graduated  from 
Williams  and  after  a  year  in  a  small  Iowa 
church  had  been  called  to  Egerton  through 
the  good  offices  of  a  former  class-mate. 

I  hope  I  may  not  be  accused  of  egotism  if  I 
set  down  plainly  what  Mr.  Hughson  said. 
The  denouement  is  not  what  an  egotist  would 
roll  under  his  tongue.  During  the  narration 
of  the  episode  let  me  treat  Philip  Vernon 
quite  as  if  he  did  not  press  the  keys  with 
which  I  am  writing  this. 

'  *  Mr.  Vernon,  I  did  not  know  until  Deacon 
Fotherby  told  me,  that  we  had  so  distin 
guished  a  man  amongst  us.  I  have  read  your 
sketches  in  the  Antarctic  Monthly  with  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  although  you  use 
a  pen  name,  still  I  happened  to  know  that  you 
were  the  author.  I  also  understand  that  you 
sometimes  recite." 

I  bowed  assent.  I  could  have  told  him.  the 
rest.  He  was  going  to  say:  "Now  the  Y.  P. 
S.  C.  E.  are  about  to  give  a  little  literary 
entertainment  for  the  benefit  of  the  library  j 
and  it  would  add  interest  to  the  proceedings 
if  you  would  do  us  the  great  honor  of  reciting 


AN   UNSUCCESSFUL   FIASCO    161 

one  or  more  pieces  for  us,  or  perhaps  read 
something  of  your  own." 

I  guessed  right.  He  said  it,  allowing  for 
certain  unimportant  verbal  variations.  I 
think  it  was  the  Y.  M.  S.  C.,  instead  of  the 
Y.  P.  S.  C.  E.,  and  instead  of  saying  "it 
would  add  interest  to  the  proceedings,"  he 
said  it  would  "give  the  affair  a  literary  fla 
vour" — words  of  the  same  import. 

I  told  him  that  Mrs.  Vernon  had  come  up 
to  rest,  but  that  did  not  head  him  off.  I 
really  didn't  suppose  it  would.  I  was  merely 
making  his  task  a  little  difficult,  so  that  he 
would  appreciate  me  the  more.  We  writers 
all  do  things  like  that.  If  I  had  fallen  into 
his  arms  and  had  said,  "Recite;  why  I'll  do 
the  whole  programme,"  while  he  would  have 
thanked  me,  he  would  have  felt  that  he  had 
gotten  me  so  easily  that  I  could  not  be  worth 
much. 

"Well,  surely,"  said  he,  "it  won't  tire  Mrs. 
Vernon  for  you  to  come  and  talk  to  us.  You'll 
be  doing  a  favour  to  your  fellows. ' ' 

Ah,  now  it  was  time  for  me  to  come  down 
gracefully  off  my  perch,  and  I  consented  to 
sing  my  little  song.  Altruism  is  the  lesson 


162      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

of  the  hour,  and  I  think  I  have  learned  it.  I 
have  been  taught  it  often  enough  by  various 
committees.  Committees  believe  firmly  in  al 
truism.  " Altruism,"  say  they,  "is  the  get 
ting  of  a  man  to  do  something  worth  some 
thing  for  nothing. ' '  Some  define  altruism  as 
"Depriving  the  labourer  of  his  hire  for  the 
good  of  others." 

I  would  not  care  to  be  misunderstood  in 
in  this  matter.  I  really  think  that  if  a  man 
has  talents  he  ought  to  use  them  to  the  benefit 
of  his  fellows,  but  I  have  known  so  many 
poor  strugglers  in  New  York  who,  when  they 
were  struggling  most  frantically,  have  been 
asked  by  complaisant  committees  to  give 
their  services  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
Grand-Daughters  of  Evolution  or  some  other 
body  perfectly  capable  of  paying  for  their 
services  that  I  am  rather  glad  of  this  oppor 
tunity  of  freeing  my  mind. 

Altruism  begins  at  home.  If  you  believe 
in  it,  practise  it  yourself,  but  until  you  have 
learned  to  think  about  the  needs  of  the  other 
fellow,  don't  ask  him  to  think  of  your  lux 
uries. 

The  upshot  of  the  whole  matter  was  that 


AN   UNSUCCESSFUL   FIASCO   163 

I  told  Mr.  Hughson  that  I  would  be  glad  to 
come  and  recite  the  following  Wednesday  (a 
week  later),  and  a  week  later  we  hired  Bert's 
wagon,  and  with  James  holding  the  reins, 
Minerva  by  his  side  (of  course  we  could  not 
leave  her  at  home  alone)  and  Ethel  and  I  on 
the  back  seat,  we  drove  down  to  the  Sunday 
School  of  the  church. 

I  wish  that  the  good  pastor  had  introduced 
me.  He  was  a  man  who  had  moved  among 
his  fellows  and  who  knew  life  and  had  a 
sense  of  values,  while  the  man  who  did  intro 
duce  me,  and  who  shall  be  nameless,  was  in 
sincere,  shallow,  a  flatterer  and  fond  of  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice. 

I  can  say  these  things  thus  plainly,  be 
cause  he  is  now  spending  a  year  or  so  in  State 
prison  for  breaking  the  sixth  commandment. 
(No  need  to  look  it  up ;  it  is  "Thou  Shalt  Not 
Steal.") 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  want  to  be 
introduced.  I  had  not  recited  for  months, 
and  I  was  feeling  frightfully  nervous.  So 
much  so  that  my  knees  wabbled,  my  palms 
were  moist  and  my  throat  parched. 

I  would  gladly  have  given  the  Y.  M.  S.  C. 


164      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

ten  dollars  to  release  me,  only  I  didn't  have 
my  check-book  with  me. 

This  full-whiskered  man,  who  was  the  Sun 
day  School  superintendent,  took  his  long 
length  up  onto  the  platform  and  bowing  and 
grimacing  said,  in  a  hard,  flat  voice, 

* '  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  think  that  we  of 
Egerton  have  always  been  fortunate  in  se 
curing  the  summer  services  of  various  peo 
ple  who  are  eminent  in  the  walks  of  life  to 
which  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  them.  You 
may  remember  that  last  summer  we  had  the 
eminent  English  scientist,  Professor  Drys- 
den,  who  did  some  very  clever  card  tricks 
for  us ;  the  year  before  we  had  Rev.  Amaziah 
Barton,  who  sang  a  very  amusing  coon  song 
for  us,  and  I  think  it  was  the  year  before  that 
that  the  famous  Arctic  explorer,  whose  name 
escapes  me,  entertained  us  with  ventriloquial 
tricks.  All  these  men  showed  in  thus — er — 
doing  things  that  were  in  a  measure  outside 
of  the  ordinary  line  of  their  duties,  how  mani 
fold  are  the  workings  of  the  human  brain. 

"To-night  we  have  with  us  a  man  whose 
name  is  known  wherever  the  English  lan 
guage  is  spoken ;  a  man  whose  erudite  works 


AN   UNSUCCESSFUL   FIASCO    165 

are  upon  every  shelf,  a  man  who  has  reflected 
lustre  upon  the  language  spoken  by  Chaucer 
and  Spenser — " 

(I  have  never  written  anything  under  the 
name  of  Philip  Vernon,  so  that  my  hearers 
were  so  far  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  my 
identity.) 

"Mr.  Vernon  is  a  frequent  contributor  to 
the  Antarctic  Magazine,  and  those  of  us  who 
feel  that  the  month  has  not  been  well  spent 
until  we  have  absorbed  its  contents  know 
Mr.  Vernon 's  work  as  we  know  our  Bibles. 

"We  have  been  told  by  a  celebrated  phi 
losopher  that  a  little  nonsense  now  and  then 
is  relished  by  the  wisest  men,  and  there  is 
a  great  deal  of  truth  in  the  remark.  I  am 
not  above  smiling  at  a  joke  myself;  no  one 
can  afford  to  be  so  engrossed  with  the  affairs 
of  the  world  as  never  to  permit  a  jocose  re 
mark  to  pass  his  lips. 

"All  work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a  dull 
boy,  and  so  Mr.  Vernon  is  going  to  unbend 
to-night,  and  will  make  you  shriek  with  laugh 
ter  by  his  card  tricks." 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  Kev.  Mr. 


166      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Hughson,  who  said  in  a  loud  whisper,  "No, 
he  is  going  to  recite." 

I  was  boiling.  If  I  had  been  Mark  Twain 
himself,  such  an  introduction  would  have 
made  whatever  followed  in  the  nature  of  an 
anti-climax.  As  I  was  to  the  audience  sim 
ply  an  unknown  "Mr.  Vernon,"  it  was  little 
less  than  cruelty  to  animals. 

"Oh,  surely.  I  am  sure  we  are  all  pre 
pared  to  laugh  heartily  at  the  witticisms  and 
comical  actions  of  Mr.  Philip  Vernon,  the 
great  author  whom  I  now  take  pleasure  in 
introducing  to  you." 

Ethel  was  well  in  the  back  of  the  room. 
She  hates  to  hear  me  recite,  as  she  is  always 
afraid  that  I  will  go  to  pieces,  a  fear  that 
I  have  often  told  her  was  groundless,  as 
whatever  else  may  happen,  I  always  keep  con 
trol  of  myself,  but  this  evening  the  malapro 
pos  idiocies  of  the  asinine  gentleman  on  the 
platform  upset  me  so  that  I  hardly  knew  what 
I  was  doing  when  I  stumbled  up  alongside  of 
him. 

I  had  chosen  a  poem  that  is  not  humourous 
in  itself,  but  by  means  of  perverting  its  writ 
ten  meanings  and  by  the  use  of  uncouth  ges- 


tures  the  thing  has  served  to  create  amuse 
ment  among  my  friends  and  (when  I  am  feel 
ing  in  the  mood  for  it)  even  among  my  ene 
mies.  But  to-night  I  was  not  feeling  hu 
mourous  ;  only  angry. 

I  bowed  to  the  audience,  bowed  to  the  min 
ister,  bowed  to  the  idiot  who  had  misintro- 
duced  me,  and  then  I  began  the  thing,  and  to 
Ethel's  intense  relief  (for  I  happened  to  look 
at  her)  the  audience  burst  out  into  laughter 
before  I  had  finished  the  first  verse.  The 
second  verse  caused  them  to  laugh  still  more, 
and  instead  of  keeping  my  wits  entirely  on 
the  matter  in  hand  I  allowed  myself  to  think 
of  both  what  my  audience  was  doing  and 
what  the  man  had  been  saying,  and  the  con 
sequence  was  what  it  is  apt  to  be  if  a  man 
loses  grip  of  his  work.  I  lost  my  lines.  I 
had  recited  the  thing  dozens  of  times,  but 
now  not  a  word  would  come  to  me.  I 
smoothed  my  moustache  and  coughed  in  char 
acter,  and  took  a  step  or  two  around  the  plat 
form,  as  if  I  were  leading  up  to  some  business 
and  then  I  bowed  suddenly  and  walked  into 
the  cloak  room,  where  I  was  followed  by 
Ethel,  and  for  the  next  two  minutes  I  had 


168      MINERVA'S    MANCEUVRES 

all  I  could  do  to  restrain  her  sobs.  She  was 
hysterical. 

As  for  me,  I  was  angry  clear  through,  and 
when  the  pastor  came  in  I  started  to  tell  him, 
but  he  raised  his  hand  and  I  saw  that  he 
understood  better  than  I  could  say.  He 
grasped  my  hand  and  I  knew  that  he  was  a 
man  of  feeling. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  he.  "The  audience 
is  laughing  and  applauding,  and  they  think 
you  meant  to  do  it.  Go  back  and  give  them 
something  else." 

It  was  as  if  a  flash  of  lightning  had  shown 
me  a  way  of  escape  from  a  perilous  lodg 
ment. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  said  I. 

He  opened  the  door  a  little  and  I  could 
hear  them  clapping  their  hands. 

"Ethel,  I'll  go  in  and  tell  them  that  story 
I  wrote  for  Mazie." 

Back  to  the  platform  I  went,  with  my  mind 
full  of  a  nonsense  story  I  had  written  for  my 
niece. 

I  was  received  by  enthusiastic  applause, 
and  heartened  by  their  kindly  feeling  I  told 
them  the  following  story,  which  I  called : 


AN    UNSUCCESSFUL   FIASCO    169 

"The  Mother  of  Little  Maude  and  Little 
Maude." 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  girl 
named  Maude,  and  she  went  out  a-driving  in 
a  four-wheeled  carriage  drawn  by  two  four- 
legged  horses  and  driven  by  one  two-legged 
driver.  And  the  dear  little  girl  named  Maude 
sat  on  the  front  seat  by  the  two-legged  driver 
and  Maude's  dear  Mama  sat  on  the  back  seat 
by  herself,  which  is  not  the  same  as  beside 
herself. 

And  all  of  a  sudden  the  horses,  which  had 
only  been  running  before,  began  to  run  away. 
And  the  dear  little  girl  named  Maude  wished 
to  let  her  mamma  know  that  they  were  run 
ning  away,  but  she  did  not  wish  to  alarm 
her  too  suddenly,  for  sometimes  shocks  are 
serious. 

And  the  dear  little  girl  named  Maude  saw 
a  reporterman  walking  along  the  sidewalk 
looking  for  news  for  his  paper.  So  she  called 
to  the  reporterman  and  said,  "I  wish  to  speak 
to  you  on  business." 

And  the  reporterman  was  agile,  and  he 
jumped  on  the  step  of  the  carriage,  and  the 


170      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

little  girl  said  to  him,  "Please  get  it  into  your 
paper  that  the  horses  are  running  away,  and 
I  wish  my  dear  mamma  to  know  it.  I  am 
none  other  than  little  Maude. ' ' 

And  the  reporterman  did  not  know  that 
the  lady  on  the  back  seat  was  the  mamma  of 
little  Maude,  so  he  raised  his  cap  and  jumped 
from  the  carriage  and  nearly  fell  down  in  so 
doing,  for  the  horses  were  now  running 
madly  on  eight  legs,  and  the  driver  was  get 
ting  nervous  and  the  reporterman  went  to  the 
newspaper  office  and  wrote :  ' '  The  horses  of 
the  little  girl  who  is  none  other  than  little 
Maude,  are  running  away  and  it  is  a  pretty 
serious  business,  for  her  mamma  does  not 
know  it,  and  there  is  no  telling  when  the 
horses  will  stop." 

And  they  slapped  this  news  into  type,  and 
then  it  was  printed  in  the  newspaper,  and  a 
newsboy  took  the  papers  and  ran  into  the 
street,  crying  '  *  Extry !  Extry !  Full  account 
of  the  running  away  of  the  horses  of  the  lit 
tle  girl,  who  is  none  other  than  little  Maude." 

And  Maude's  mamma  heard  the  little  boy, 
and  she  beckoned  ^to  him  to  bring  her  a  paper. 
And  the  newsboy  was  also  agile,  and  he 


AN    UNSUCCESSFUL   FIASCO    171 

leaped  upon  the  step  and  sold  a  paper  to  the 
lady  for  a  cent  and  then  he  jumped  off  again, 
for  he  had  other  papers  to  sell. 

And  the  mamma  of  little  Maude  began  to 
read  the  news.  And  when  she  came  to  the 
part  that  said  the  horses  of  little  Maude  were 
running  away,  she  looked  straight  ahead  and 
saw  that  it  was  indeed  true. 

And  with  great  presence  of  mind  she 
climbed  over  the  back  seat  and  dropped  to 
the  ground  unhurt.  And  when  little  Maude 
saw  that  her  dear  mamma  had  escaped,  she 
also  climbed  over  the  back  seat  and  dropped 
to  the  ground  unhurt.  And  when  the  driver 
saw  that  Maude's  mamma  and  little  Maude 
had  escaped,  he  also  climbed  over  the  back 
seat  and  dropped  to  the  ground  unhurt. 

And  the  two  horses,  who  were  very  intelli 
gent  and  who  had  wondered  what  would  be 
the  outcome  of  their  runaway,  got  into  the 
carriage  and  they  also  climbed  over  the  back 
seat  and  dropped  to  the  ground  unhurt. 

•  •  «  *  • 

The  ride  home  was  pleasanter  than  I  had 
expected  it  to  be.  When  I  had  stepped  off 
the  platform  after  my  fiasco,  I  understood 


172      MINERVA'S   MANCBUVEES 

how  a  suicide  felt.  When  I  stepped  off  the 
second  time  I  felt  better. 

"I  almos'  bus'  laughin',"  said  Minerva,  as 
she  climbed  into  the  carriage. 

1  i  Thank  you,  Minerva, ' '  said  I,  fully  appre 
ciating  both  the  compliment  and  her  peril. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   FOURTH    OF    JULY. 

A  week  of  lovely  weather  made  us  forget 
time.  We  spent  our  days  in  the  open  air, 
and  Minerva  spent  her  days  practising  for 
the  concert.  It  was  wonderful  with  what  ex 
pedition  she  cooked  our  meals  and  cleaned 
up  afterward.  The  meals  were,  if  anything, 
more  delicious  than  formerly.  She  was  hap 
py,  and  she  could  not  help  communicating 
some  of  her  happiness  to  her  cooking.  It 
was  not  so  much  the  thing  she  cooked,  as  the 
happy  way  she  cooked  it. 

James  was  a  sort  of  Luther  Burbank  in 
his  power  over  plants.  One  afternoon  I  said 
to  Ethel  in  his  hearing  that  I  thought  it  was 
a  pity  that  the  Wheelocks  had  not  planted 
a  vine  in  front  of  the  house,  as  it  would  have 
added  greatly  to  its  picturesqueness. 

He  was  oiling  his  lawn  mower  at  the  time, 
and  I  noticed  that  he  stood  up  and  looked 

173 


174      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

at  the  house  front  and  nodded  his  head  and 
smiled,  but  I  would  not  have  thought  of  it 
again  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  two 
days  after,  on  returning  from  a  drive  with 
Ethel,  we  both  burst  out  into  ejaculations  of 
surprise  and  delight. 

The  front  of  the  house,  up  to  the  second- 
story  window,  was  adorned  by  a  most  beau 
tiful  crimson  rambler, 

I  felt  like  rubbing  my  eyes.  We  must  have 
lost  our  way.  It  could  not  be  our  house. 

But  just  then  Minerva  and  James  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house,  hand  in  hand. 
As  soon  as  they  saw  us  they  let  go  of  hands, 
and  she  went  back  to  the  kitchen  with  a  guf 
faw  that  merely  indicated  light  heartedness. 

James  looked  up  at  the  vine  and  said, 

" Looks  pretty  nice,  don't  it?" 

We  overwhelmed  him  with  compliments, 
and  found  out  that  he  had  bought  a  large 
potted  plant  in  full  bloom  and  had  sunk  pot 
and  all  in  the  earth.  I  had  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing  being  done  before,  and  I  looked 
to  see  the  roses  all  wither,  but  they  did  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  Our  place  looked  a  hundred 
per  cent,  better  than  it  had  done  before,  and 


THE   FOURTH   OF   JULY        175 

when,  a  day  or  so  later,  I  received  a  bill  from 
a  florist  at  Egerton,  I  paid  it  without  a  mur 
mur.  There  is  nothing  like  initiative,  and  it 
is  worth  paying  for. 

As  I  say,  the  days  went  by  unheeded.  We 
were  too  far  from  any  church  to  attend  one, 
but  we  tried  to  be  as  good  on  Sunday  as  we 
were  on  week  days. 

And  this,  by  the  way,  is  a  most  excellent 
rule  for  anyone  to  follow. 

One  morning  I  heard  what  sounded  like  pis 
tol  shots  in  the  distance,  many  times  repeat 
ed,  and  while  we  were  at  breakfast  one  or 
two  teams  passed  us  headed  for  Egerton. 

"I  wonder  if  haying  is  over  as  soon  as 
this?"  said  Ethel.  "I  thought  that  horses 
were  all  at  work  in  the  fields." 

"Not  this  morning,  evidently,"  said  I  as 
another  team,  a  two-horse  one  this  time,  went 
by,  loaded  with  children. 

"Oh,  it's  a  picnic,"  said  I,  and  then  we 
heard  a  loud  explosion  in  the  opposite  quar 
ter  from  that  of  the  last  pistol  shot 

I  looked  at  Ethel,  and  we  burst  out  laugh 
ing  together. 

"Fourth  of  July!" 


176      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

' '  Of  course !  What  geese  we  are.  Oh,  let 's 
go  down  town  and  see  what  they  are  doing ! ' ' 

"Why,  we  can  hear  it  up  here.  That's  all 
they  are  doing,"  said  I. 

"No,  I've  always  read  about  Fourth  of 
July  in  the  country.  Don't  you  remember 
Tom  Bailey,  in  the  'Story  of  a  Bad  Boy'? 
Let's  go  down  and  join  in  the  fun." 

"Probably  Bert's  gone  with  his  family. 
We  'd  have  to  walk. ' ' 

"Hello!  here's  someone  driving  up  to  the 
post.  Why,  it's  James  with  a  two-seated 
wagon ! ' ' 

Just  then  Minerva  came  into  the  room, 
dressed  up  in  her  Sunday  best  and  with  an 
assortment  of  colored  ribbons  that  made  her 
look  like  a  fair. 

"Will  there  be  anything  to  do  to-day, 
ma'am?  I've  made  lunch." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go,  Minerva?" 
said  Ethel. 

* '  Why,  James  is  just  crazy  to  take  me  down 
to  town  to  see  the  parade. ' ' 

"Who  else  is  going?" 

"No  one  on'y  him  an'  me.  He  brought 
his  father's  wagon." 


THE   FOUBTH   OF   JULY        177 

"I  guess  there'll  be  no  objection,  Miner 
va,  ' '  said  Ethel.  ' '  When  will  you  be  back ! ' ' 

"Oh,  time  for  dinner.'* 

"Yes,  you  may  go  Minerva,"  said  Ethel, 
and  Minerva  clapped  her  hands.  "Country 
ain't  so  bad  when  you  know  it,"  said  she. 

She  went  out  into  the  kitchen,  and  I  said, 

"I  have  a  kind  of  notion  that  James  is 
going  to  invite  us  to  go  down  with  them. 
Now  that  would  be  extremely  simple  and 
would  probably  strike  Mrs.  Guernsea  as  be 
ing  very  original,  but  I  think  it  will  be  better 
if  I  hire  his  rig  and  get  him  to  drive  us  down 
and  we'll  stay  there  all  day  and  take  dinner 
at  the  hotel,  and  come  back  by  moonlight." 

Ethel  took  a  turn  at  hand  clapping. 

"You're  a  great  deal  better  than  when  we 
came  up,  aren't  you?"  said  I. 

"Oh,  I'm  all  well  now,  and  perfectly  hap- 
py." 

I  went  out  and  said  to  James, 

* '  James,  can  I  hire  your  f ather  's  team  for 
to-day?  and  then  I'd  like  you  to  drive  us  to 
town  and  bring  us  back  to-night.  We  '11  dine 
at  the  hotel  and  you  and  Minerva  can  dine 
where  you  like." 


178      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Whatever  James'  idea  may  have  been,  he 
was  not  above  earning  an  honest  dollar,  and  I 
offered  him  two  for  the  use  of  his  team,  and 
a  half  hour  later  we  started  for  town. 

His  father  had  raised  the  horses  himself 
(well-matched  and  handsome  sorrels),  and 
under  James'  guidance  they  made  nothing 
of  the  three-mile  drive. 

It  was  exhilarating  to  go  through  the  air 
at  such  a  pace,  and  we  were  both  glad  we  had 
come,  although  we  were  both  ashamed  that 
we  had  forgotten  what  day  it  was. 

Arrived  in  town,  James  put  the  horses  up 
at  a  stable,  and  we  broke  up  into  groups  of 
two. 

I  had  never  seen  Minerva  in  such  spirits, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  clung  to  James' 
arm  in  a  way  that  signified  something  ap 
proaching  an  understanding  between  them. 
What  if  he  married  her  ?  How  could  we  find 
work  for  him  in  New  York? 

She  almost  danced  along,  and  his  own 
stride  was  to  a  certain  extent  cake-walkey. 
We  saw  them  enter  an  ice  cream  saloon  im 
mediately,  and  we  knew  they  would  be  happy 
all  day  long. 


THE   FOURTH   OF   JULY        179 

There  was  joy  in  the  air  and  we  were 
happy.  There  is  no  question  about  it;  as 
a  people  we  are  beginning  to  take  our  holi 
days  less  sadly.  Everywhere  laughing  groups 
were  forming  on  the  sidewalks  of  Main  street 
to  wait  for  the  parade,  which  was  to  be  made 
up  not  only  of  G.  A.  R,  men,  but  also  of  repre 
sentatives  from  nearly  every  fire  company  in 
the  county.  Engines  and  hooks  and  ladders 
had  been  coming  in  on  the  railroad  all  the 
morning,  and,  as  I  said  to  Ethel,  I  trembled 
when  I  thought  of  what  might  happen  in 
their  absence.  She  characteristically  ad 
vised  me  not  to  tremble  too  much. 

Blue  coated,  peak  hatted  men  jostled  slouch 
hatted  veterans  of  the  Civil  War  and  younger 
men  in  khaki  hurried  to  headquarters  to  make 
part  of  the  parade. 

Small  boys  were  firing  off  lock-jaw  pistols 
and  smaller  boys  were  exploding  firecrack 
ers  and  already  that  morning  there  had  been 
a  delightful  fire  in  a  fireworks  store.  Thanks 
to  the  visiting  firemen  it  had  been  put  out  be 
fore  the  store  was  entirely  consumed.  Every 
one  had  been  intensely  gratified  at  the  excite 
ment  excepting  the  owner  who  had  reckoned 


180      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

on  having  his  fireworks  set  off  in  other  places 
than  his  own  store.  There  was  no  chance  for 
his  rockets  to  show  to  advantage.  However, 
he  was  fully  insured  and  he  showed  his 
American  spirit  by  hiring  an  empty  store  and 
doing  a  good  business  for  the  rest  of  the  day 
in  selling  wet  fireworks  at  a  discount.  Small 
boys  found  that  fifty  per  cent  of  the  crackers 
in  a  package  would  go  off  in  spite  of  their 
exposure  to  water  and  as  two  cents  a  package 
was  his  prevailing  price  they  were  willing  to 
buy  to  the  extent  of  their  Fourth-of-July  for 
tunes. 

To  our  city  eyes  the  parade  was  not  very 
imposing  but  then  again  viewed  as  a  spectacle 
of  American  manhood  it  was  not  without  its 
interest  and  the  company  of  smoothshaven, 
tanned  cheeked  veterans  of  the  Philippine 
War  marching  sturdily  along  provoked  tre 
mendous  cheers  from  many  who  in  the  nature 
of  things  must  have  been  "  antis." 

All  men  are  or  ought  to  be  expansionists  on 
the  Fourth-of-July.  It  is  a  day  for  fine  feel 
ing  and  for  feeling  fine.  Ethel  responded  to 
its  spirit  nobly  and  she  had  not  looked  so  well 
in  years. 


Once  we  heard  loud  laughter  from  the 
crowd  and  I  instinctively  said  " Minerva," 
and  sure  enough  they  were  laughing  at  our 
maid.  She  or  James  had  bought  an  Ameri 
can  flag  and  she  had  wrapped  it  around  her 
shoulders  and  was  rising  and  falling  on  the 
balls  of  her  feet  in  response  to  some  internal 
rhythm.  All  at  once  she  broke  out  into  the 
singing  of  Dixie  in  which  she  was  joined  first 
by  James  and  then  by  the  entire  crowd. 
Those  who  could  not  sing  cheered  and  if  there 
were  any  Southerners  present  it  must  have 
warmed  the  cockles  of  their  hearts. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  most  popular 
song  in  the  United  States  today  (outside  of 
"America"  which  is  popular  by  tradition) 
is  Dixie  which  was  composed  and  written  by  a 
Northerner,  fused  into  life  by  Southerners 
and  now  serves  to  show  that  we  are  Ameri 
cans  all. 

After  the  parade  those  of  us  who  could 
made  our  way  to  the  Town  Hall  where  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  to  be  read 
and  where  speeches  were  to  be  made  quite  in 
the  old  fashioned  way. 

Ethel  had  never  heard  the  Declaration  of 


182      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Independence  read.     Fancy !    Neither  had  I. 

It  seemed  rather  long  but  we  liked  the  senti 
ments  in  it  and  it  was  read  by  a  man  who 
knew  his  business;  the  rector  of  the  Episco 
pal  Church. 

Those  who  had  a  special  pull  were  admit 
ted  to  the  platform.  I  worked  no  wires.  In 
fact  Ethel  wanted  to  sit  where  she  could  leave 
the  house  easily  if  she  felt  faint  so  we  were  in 
the  rear. 

James  evidently  had  a  pull  for  he  and  Mi 
nerva  sat  on  the  platform.  I  was  glad  to  see 
it  because  surely  the  Fourth-of-July  is  — 
well  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  more. 

Most  of  the  speeches  were  very  long  and 
the  place  was  very  hot  but  there  was  one 
speech  that  was  full  of  flowery  eloquence  that 
I  had  supposed  had  faded  from  the  earth. 

I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of  the  editor 
of  the  Egerton  Ensign  for  its  text  and  I  give 
it  herewith  so  that  future  ages  may  see  that, 
as  late  as  the  year  1903,  Demosthenian  elo 
quence  had  not  passed  away. 

The  speaker  was  a  member  of  the  State 
Legislature  and  he  still  clung  to  Burnside 
whiskers — or  to  be  more  accurate  they  still 


THE   FOURTH   OF   JULY        183 

clung  to  him.  He  had  a  high  forehead  that 
continued  unabashed  over  to  his  collar. 

He  rose  amid  considerable  handclapping 
and  advancing  to  the  front  of  the  platform  he 
bowed  solemnly  to  the  multitude  and  then  in 
a  voice  that  was  rich  and  sonorous  and  musi 
cal  he  said: 

1 '  One  hundred  and  twenty-seven  years  ago 
to-day  a  nation  was  born  upon  earth. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  need  I  tell  you 
what  the  name  of  that  Nation  was?  Need  I 
say  to  any  boy  or  to  any  girl  or  to  any  man 
or  to  any  woman  in  this  vast  assemblage  what 
the  name  of  that  nation  was  ? 

"No,  ev-er-y  boy  and  ev-er-y  girl  and  ev- 
er-y  man  and  ev-er-y  woman  knows  that  I  re 
fer  to  these  free  and  independent  United 
States  of  America.  (Cheers). 

"Born  amid  the  thunder  of  warring  guns 
(sic)  and  nursed  upon  bullets  she  grew  to 
lusty  childhood,  advanced  to  sweet  woman 
hood  and  in  her  turn,  upon  that  other  day  to 
be  held  in  remembrance — upon  Dewey  day — 
she  became  the  mother  of  a  child — a  child  that 
it  is  our  duty  to  cherish  and  to  educate  and  to 


184      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

uplift  and  to  protect  until  she  is  as  American 
as  her  mother. 

"Need  I  say  that  I  refer  to  the  Philip 
pines?"  (Cheers  mingled  with  a  few  his 
ses).  He  had  now  warmed  to  his  work  and 
his  studied  eloquence  gave  way  to  something 
more  sincere. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  we  warred  with 
England  in  the  days  of  old  and  I  remember 
the  time  when  it  was  thought  to  be  unpa 
triotic  for  an  American  to  like  an  Englishman 
but  I  say  let  us  be  magnanimous.  Let  us  not 
any  longer  taunt  England  with  her  defeat. 
Those  soldiers  that  she  sent  to  harry  and  to 
bully  and  to  cripple  us  are  dead  long  ago. 
They  did  what  they  had  sworn  to  do 
when  they  took  oath  under  that  despicable 
despot  George  the  Third.  "When  they  fought 
us  they  were  doing  their  duty  as  they  saw  it 
and  their  dust  has  mingled  with  the  free  soil 
of  this  great  country  these  many  years. 

"Let  us  be  magnanimous.  Why  even  in 
those  dark  days  we  were  not  without  friends 
on  the  other  side.  The  name  of  William  Pitt 
should  ever  be  spoken  with  respect  by  true 
Americans. 


THE    FOURTH    OF    JULY        185 

"Let  us  be  magnanimous.  Are  we  likely 
to  go  to  war  with  England!  (thunders  of  Nos 
from  all  parts  of  the  house). 

"No,  gentlemen,  we  are  not  likely  to  go  to 
war  with  that  country.  Right  or  wrong  she 
was  our  mother  and  we  are  the  greatest  credit 
to  her  that  ever  a  daughter  was  to  a  mother. 
From  the  sea-kissed  shores  of  the  coast  of 
Maine  to  the  ocean  lapped  coast  of  Califor 
nia  ;  from  the  storm  swept  areas  of  the  great 
lakes  to  the  humid  waters  of  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico  we  are  the  greatest  daughter  that  a 
mother  ever  had. 

"Was  Greece  great?    We  shall  be  greater. 

"Was  Rome  powerful?  We  shall  be  more 
powerful. 

"Were  the  Middle  Ages  renowned  for 
their  arts?  We  shall  be  more  renowned. 

"Was  England  strong  upon  sea  or  land? 
We  shall  be  more  strong. 

"Has  England  stood  for  internal  fair 
play?  We  shall  stand  for  external  fair  play. 

"This  country  that  was  mocked  and 
taunted  within  the  memory  of  men  yet  living 
shall  become  one,  who  with  power  to  mock 
does  not  mock.  She  shall  spread  abroad  her 


186      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

hand  and  wars  shall  cease.  The  oppressed  in 
all  climes  shall  look  to  her  for  protection  and 
she  will  protect. 

"I  hear  voices  borne  on  the  summer  wind 
of  this  day  and  they  bring  good  tidings  to  me. 
They  tell  me  that  the  right  to  work  for  a  fair 
wage  shall  belong  to  each  man  and  each 
woman  who  chooses  to  exercise  it.  They  tell 
me — these  voices — that  the  right  to  stop 
others  from  working  shall  be  taken  from 
those  who  think  they  hold  it  (Hear,  hear)  and 
that  the  right  of  the  rich  to  eternally  grab  is 
no  right. 

"  These  voices  tell  me  that  the  arts  have 
found  in  these  United  States  a  soil  in  which 
they  may  flourish  undisturbed.  The  blood 
of  the  Italians  who  have  come  to  this  country, 
mixed  with  the  blood  of  the  Poles  and  cooled 
by  the  blood  of  those  of  the  North  lands,  tem 
pered  still  more  by  the  sturdy  common  sense 
of  the  Britons,  made  buoyant  by  the  wit  of 
the  French  and  made  strong  and  powerful  by 
the  blood  of  the  three  century  old  Americans 
will  result  in  a  type  of  man  that  shall  cause 
our  houses  to  become  beautiful;  that  shall 
save  our  forests  from  destruction,  that  shall 


THE    FOURTH    OF   JULY        187 

decorate  and  color  and  cause  to  blossom  and 
run  to  ripe  fruitage  all  that  makes  life  culti 
vated,  pure,  serene  and  lovable. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  let  us  thank  God 
that  we  are  Americans;  that  we  have  been 
allowed  to  live  to  see  this  day.  There  are 
strifes  and  rumours  of  strifes  in  our  land  but 
everything  tends  to  betterment,  and  I  firmly 
believe  that  at  the  last  we  shall  be  found  to 
be  the  chosen  people  of  the  Lord  of  All 
Things  by  whom  all  things  were  made. ' ' 

(Cheers,  and  thunders  of  applause,  in  which 
I  am  free  to  say  that  Ethel  and  myself  joined 
heartily.) 

In  fact,  although  the  speech  was  over 
flowery,  it  had  in  it  a  good  deal  that  any  fair- 
minded  man  could  say  amen  to  and  delivered 
under  the  influence  of  the  deep  baritone  of  a 
natural  orator  it  was  stimulating. 

And  then  some  one,  with  no  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things,  rose  and  called  on  all  to  sing 
"Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee." 

The  millennium  is  not  as  close  as  all  that. 
We  still  have  the  question  of  the  rights  of 
labour  and  the  wrongs  of  capital  with  us,  and 
a  better  hymn  might  have  been  selected. 


188      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

' '  Onward,  Christian  Soldiers, ' '  would  have 
been  more  in  the  spirit  of  the  time. 

We  made  our  way  out,  and  as  I  was  leav 
ing  the  hall  I  looked  back  and  saw  the  orator 
of  the  day  shaking  hands  with  James.  It 
gave  me  a  choky  feeling,  so  that  perhaps  I 
was  still  under  the  influence  of  his  speech. 

I  will  acknowledge  that  I  set  down  the 
speech  in  this  place  in  order  to  make  fun  of 
it,  but  after  all  it  was  sincere,  and  sincerity 
makes  a  poor  butt  for  the  shafts  of  ridicule. 

During  the  afternoon  we  took  a  drive  in 
James's  wagon,  and  saw  something  of  the 
beauty  of  the.  surrounding  country,  going 
quite  a  distance  on  the  road  to  Springfield. 
We  returned  to  Egerton  by  the  upper  road, 
and  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  the  horses 
under  control,  as  that  end  of  the  town  was 
given  up  to  the  small  boy,  and  pistols,  crack 
ers  and  bombs  were  being  exploded  on  every 
hand. 

One  of  those  hideous  things  that  knock  the 
romance  out  of  any  spot  in  which  they  are 
placed,  a  merry-go-round,  was  revolving  to 
the  sound  of  wheezy  organ  music,  and  the 
horses  were  of  one  mind  with  us  as  to  its  be- 


THE    FOURTH    OF   JULY        189 

ing  a  blot  on  civilization,  and  they  proceeded 
to  show  their  distaste  for  it  to  such  an  extent 
that  I  stopped  them  short  and  let  Ethel  get 
out.  Then  I  forced  them  to  stand  still  and 
watch  the  moving  picture.  They  obeyed  me 
for  a  few  seconds  and  then  they  tore  down  the 
street.  I  controlled  them  very  soon,  how 
ever,  and  when  I  had  stopped  them  I  hitched 
them  to  a  post  on  a  quiet  square  and  went 
back  to  get  Ethel. 

I  found  her  by  a  tree,  looking  with  amuse 
ment  at  the  carrousel.  My  eyes  followed 
hers,  and  the  picture  presented  to  them  was 
eminently  characteristic. 

James  was  riding  on  the  merry-go-round. 
He  was  astride  of  a  small  wooden  pony  that 
gave  his  legs  a  chance  to  look  unduly  long, 
while  perched  alongside  of  him  sat  Minerva 
astride  of  a  giraffe.  She  was  clinging  to  the 
neck  of  the  beast,  and  for  the  time  being  she 
was  in  New  York  (for  Coney  Island  is  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  New  York  and  your 
merry-go-round  is  the  strawberry  mark  that 
identifies  Coney  Island). 

Round  and  round  she  whirled,  her  eyes 
shining  ecstatically,  and  from  time  to  time 


she   reached   out   her   right  hand   and   met 
James's  left. 

"We  will  have  to  keep  a  butler  next  win 
ter,"  said  Ethel. 

Suddenly  Minerva  saw  us  and  she  waved 
her  hand  to  us  and  yelled  something  that  we 
could  not  distinguish,  but  I  knew  it  was  an 
invitation  to  mount  some  strange  animal  and 
be  happy. 

We  shook  our  heads.  Happiness  would  not 
come  to  us  in  those  questionable  shapes. 
When  I  want  to  be  sea-sick  give  me  the  ocean 
and  a  European  port  as  the  reward,  not 
merely  sickness  for  sickness'  sake.  And 
Ethel  is  of  the  same  mind  only  more  so.  She 
goes  so  far  as  to  say,  give  her  some  American 
port  and  leave  the  sea  and  its  sickness  out  al 
together. 

The  music  dwindled,  the  merry-go-round 
became  less  merry,  and  at  last  ceased  to  go 
round,  and  then  Minerva,  settling  her  ample 
skirts  so  as  to  cover  the  flanks  of  the  giraffe, 
said, 

"Oh,  Mis.  Vernon,  I  ain't  had  so  much  fun 
this  summer.  Better  come  up.  It's  jus'  as 
easy." 


THE   FOURTH   OF   JULY        191 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it,  Minerva,"  said  Ethel, 
"but  it  would  make  me  dizzy.  Have  you  had 
lunch?" 

' '  'Deed  we  have.    "Want  some  peanuts  ? ' ' 

The  offer  was  made  with  such  generosity 
of  spirit  that  Ethel  accepted.  It  was  the 
Fourth-of-July,  and  we  all  ate  peanuts  to 
gether.  I  don't  think  that  James  liked  it. 
He  felt  that  Minerva  had  not  been,  well 
brought  up.  I  am  sure  that  he  would  not  have 
asked  us  to  eat  peanuts,  but  I  don't  see  that 
any  harm  was  done.  There  was  no  cloth 
spread  and  I  have  never  yet  come  across  a 
rule  that  says  a  lady  of  color  on  a  giraffe 
should  not  offer  peanuts  to  her  mistress  on 
the  sidewalk  of  a  New  England  town. 

Anyway  the  peanuts  were  good  and  we  en 
joyed  them. 

We  told  James  and  Minerva  to  have  a  good 
time  and  to  be  ready  to  start  for  home  at  half 
past  nine.  There  was  to  be  a  display  of  fire 
works  at  eight,  and  I  knew  they  would  want 
to  see  that.  It  was  somewhere  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  five  o'clock  when  we  left  them 
and  drove  back  to  the  stable. 

The  fireworks  display  was  beautiful,  al- 


192      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

though  not  lavish.  I  listened  for  Minerva's 
rapturous  Ah's,  but  did  not  hear  them,  and 
as  the  circle  in  which  we  sat  was  not  more 
than  an  eighth  of  a  mile  in  diameter,  I  judged 
that  for  some  unaccountable  reason  she  was 
not  there. 

After  the  exhibition,  which  ended  with  a 
flight  of  a  hundred  rockets,  one  of  which  stove 
in  a  plate-glass  window  and  so  provided  extra 
amusement  for  the  crowd,  we  made  our  way 
to  the  stable,  expecting  to  find  James  there, 
but  he  was  not. 

We  found  our  wagon  under  a  shed  and  we 
climbed  in  and  waited,  as  Ethel  was  tired  of 
being  on  her  feet. 

We  waited  until  ten  o  'clock  and  James  and 
Minerva  did  not  come,  so  I  asked  a  hostler 
to  harness  up,  and  telling  him  to  keep  James 
and  Minerva  if  they  came,  we  went  forth  to 
look  for  them. 

I  had  a  theory  as  to  where  they  were,  and 
I  drove  to  Doncaster  street,  whereon  the 
merry-go-round  stands. 

My  instinct  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the 
couple  proved  correct.  There,  under  the 
flare  of  gasoline  torches,  whirled  the  merry- 


THE   FOURTH   OF   JULY        193 

go-round,  and  now  James  was  astride  of  an 
ostrich  and  Minerva,  like  Una,  was  riding  a 
lion  by  his  side  and  their  hands  were  clasped 
in  a  firm,  firm  clasp. 

I  caught  the  eye  of  James  and  signalled, 
and  when  the  music  came  to  an  end  and  the 
machine  stopped,  he  and  his  lady  love  dis 
mounted. 

"When  we  were  all  in  the  carriage  Ethel 
said  to  Minerva, 

"How  did  you  enjoy  the  fireworks ?" 
She  threw  herself  back  in  the  seat  with  a 
gasp. 

"Lawdy,  forgot  all  'bout  the  fireworks. " 
"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Minerva,  that  you 
have  been  riding  ever  since  we  saw  you  this 
afternoon. ' ' 

"'Deed  we  have.  Eode  every  beas'  an' 
bird  there  was." 

"And  what  did  you  have  for  supper?" 
"Peanuts,"    said   James,    rather    shame 
facedly. 


MORE    NATURE    STUDY. 

"It's  love  that  makes  the  world  go  round,'* 
said  I  next  morning  at  breakfast. 

"What  makes  the  merry-go-round?"  said 
Ethel. 

"The  answer  to  that  will  be  found  in  the 
May  number,"  said  I.  "You  ought  not  to 
ask  conundrums,  whose  answers  have  to  be 
thought  up.  But  isn't  it  so?  Hasn't  Mi 
nerva  been  an  angel  ever  since  James  came 
and  if  she  isn  't  in  love  with  him  what  is  she  1 ' ' 

"If  that's  another  conundrum,  I  give  it  up, 
too.  Do  you  suppose  that  James  loves  her! 

"It  wouldn't  surprise  me.  Minerva  is  not 
bad  looking  and  she  has  a  happy  disposition 
in  the  main,"  said  I,  as  Ethel  passed  me  my 
coffee. 

"My,  yes,  she's  a  different  creature  from 
what  she  was  when  she  first  saw  these  hills. 
This  morning  she  actually  told  me  that  the 

194 


MORE   NATURE   STUDY         195 

sunsets  up  here  had  more  colors  in  them  than 
they  had  in  New  York,  and  that  they  were 
bigger.  She's  beginning  to  take  notice.  I 
must  give  her  a  nature  lesson.  Something 
has  always  happened  to  prevent  it," 

"I  don't  think  the  need  for  it  exists  now 
that  she  has  James.  He's  all  the  study  she 
needs." 

"Yes,  but  if  we  should  come  up  here  next 
summer,  and  James  should  not  prove  con 
stant,  it  would  be  something  if  she  loved  the 
country  for  its  own  sake." 

Just  then  Minerva  came  in  with  a  dish  of 
brains;  a  present  from  Bert's  father,  who 
sent  the  pleasant  message  that  they  always 
threw  the  stuff  away,  but  he  knew  that  city 
folks  had  queer  tastes. 

"Minerva,  what  were  you  going  to  do  this 
morning?"  asked  Ethel. 

"Nothin',  ma'am,"  said  she  innocently. 

"You  mean  nothing  in  particular,"  said 
Ethel,  knowing  that  no  impertinence  was  in 
tended.  "Suppose  you  take  some  of  those 
new  kitchen  towels  to  hem  and  we'll  go  out 
into  the  fields  and  I'll  tell  you  something 
about  the  flowers." 


196      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"I  got  some  sewin'  of  my  own  to  do  if 
you'll  let  me,"  said  Minerva. 

"Why  certainly.  You  know,  Minerva,  as 
long  as  you  get  your  work  done  each  day,  I 
don't  care  what  you  do  for  yourself." 

"No'm,  I  know  you  don't.  I  don't  either 
ma'am." 

I  looked  up  hastily,  but  Minerva  was  guilt 
less  of  any  attempt  at  repartee.  She  was 
simply  acquiescing  with  her  mistress. 

Having  nothing  better  to  do  than  loaf,  I 
went  with  Ethel  to  a  place  called  the  winter- 
green  lot,  about  a  half  mile  distant,  and  Mi 
nerva  followed  after  with  a  lot  of  white  stuff 
that  reminded  me  strongly  of  the  day  I  was 
married.  I  am  not  up  in  feminine  fabrics, 
and  the  thing  might  have  been  mosquito  net 
ting. 

The  day  was  hot  and  sultry.  Hanging  over 
Egerton  in  the  southwest  were  great  black, 
wicked  looking  clouds  that  portended  thunder 
storms.  We  had  so  far  escaped  without  one, 
although  we  had  several  times  heard  distant 
thunder  and  had  seen  a  storm  following  the 
course  of  the  river  in  the  west. 

"Shall  we  take  umbrellas?"  said  Ethel 


MORE    NATURE    STUDY         197 

"What's  the  use?"  said  I.  "If  it  rains 
we'll  probably  get  wet  anyway,  and  in  such 
hot  weather  as  this  a  wetting1  won't  hurt." 

So  we  went  unhampered  by  umbrellas,  and 
after  a  walk  through  a  tree-embowered  road, 
whose  beauty  we  were  told  had  been  marked 
for  destruction  by  the  brass  mill,  but  of  which 
destruction  the  happy  trees  were  all  ignorant, 
we  reached  the  wintergreen  lot,  and  Ethel, 
spreading  a  shawl,  seated  herself  on  the 
mossy  ground,  while  I  perched  on  a  rock  until 
it  got  too  hard,  when  I  changed  to  another 
rock. 

' l  Minerva,  do  you  see  that  little  red  berry 
in  the  grass?"  said  Ethel. 

"Yas'm." 

"Well,  pick  it  and  I'll  tell  you  something 
about  it." 

I  sniffed.  Ethel's  love  of  outdoor  life  is 
very  real,  but  she  is  not  a  botanist.  "She 
knows  what  she  likes"  in  nature,  but  she 
can 't  tell  why. 

She  heard  the  sniff  and  her  lips  came  to 
gether  to  form  a  noiseless  word  that  she  be 
stows  upon  me  when  she  thinks  I  need  it. 

Then  she  smiled  at  me  and  took  from  a  lit- 


198      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

tie  bag  she  had  brought  with  her  Mrs.  Dana 's 
book,  "How  to  Know  the  Wild  Flowers," 
which  she  had  evidently  found  among,  the 
Wheelock's  possessions. 

"That,  Minerva,  is  the  wintergreen  berry. 
Taste  it  and  tell  me  what  it  reminds  you  of. ' ' 

Minerva 's  wide  mouth  enveloped  the  dainty 
berry  and  she  crushed  it  with  her  tongue. 
Then  she  beamed. 

"Chewin'  gum,"  said  she.  "Wish  I  had 
some. ' ' 

"Well,  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that,  but  they 
do  flavor  chewing  gum  with  it,  I  believe.  But 
could  you  get  anything  in  the  city  as  pretty 
as  that?" 

"Yas'm." 

"What,  Minerva?" 

' '  Crawberries. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  they  don't  grow  in  the  city. 
Now  here's  something  that  I  never  noticed 
before.  It  says  in  this  book  that  'he  who 
seeks  the  cool  shade  of  the  evergreens  on  a 
hot  July  day  is  likely  to  discover  the  nod 
ding  wax-like  flowers  of  this  little  plant.* 
Now  let's  see  if  we  can  find  any.  It  doesn't 


MOEE    NATURE    STUDY         199 

seem  likely  that  the  fruit  and  the  blossom 
would  be  blooming  at  the  same  time." 

' '  They  are,  though, ' '  said  I.  ' '  Found  that 
out  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  can  never  taste 
wintergreen  berries  without  being  reminded 
of  a  girl  that  — " 

"Wait,  Philip,  we'll  be  back.  I  want  to 
see  if  I  can  get  a  flower. ' ' 

Ethel  always  cuts  me  off  when  I  make  any 
references  to  my  lost  youth.  She  calls  them 
my  calf  love  days  and  takes  no  interest  in 
them,  while  I  contend  that  some  of  the  happi 
est  moments  in  a  man's  life  are  when  he 
roams  the  fields  in  retrospect  with  a  girl  who 
is  always  ten  times  prettier  than  anyone  he 
ever  met.  I  once  met  one  of  those  old-time 
beauties  and  the  shock  was  terrific.  I  tried 
to  restore  her  features  as  I  gazed  at  her,  but 
my  imagination  balked  at  the  task.  She  was 
a  good  woman,  the  mother  of  seven  good  chil 
dren,  but  the  vision  of  the  lovely,  dancing- 
eyed,  pink-cheeked,  rosebud-mouthed,  shell- 
like-eared,  dimple-chinned  naiad  of  my  early 
youth  was  gone. 

From  the  way  in  which  she  looked  at  me,  I 
felt  that  she  had  suffered  a  like  shock.  The 


200      MINEKVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

tall,  lithe-limbed,  high-browed,  innocent- 
faced,  clear-eyed,  light-hearted  boy  of  sixteen 
no  longer  stood  before  her.  Thanks  be  to  the 
conventions  of  society,  neither  one  of  us 
wished  that  our  tongues  could  utter  the 
thoughts  that  arose  in  us,  and  we  both  had 
the  audacity  to  speak  of  the  jolly  days  of  long 
ago,  and  I  left  her,  thinking  that  I  still  con 
sidered  her  the  little  beauty  of  1886,  while  she 
left  me  still  imagining  that  I  thought  she 
thought  me  the  handsome  youth  of  the  same 
year. 

Ethel  gave  a  little  cry  of  delight. 

''I've  found  one,  Philip.  It's  just  like  the 
picture  in  the  book. ' ' 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  I.  "You  don't 
suppose  that  they  make  up  those  pictures  and 
expect  the  plants  to  conform  to  them  f ' ' 

Not  noticing  my  flippancy,  she  came  over 
with  two  of  the  little  flowers  and  held  them 
up  for  me  to  see. 

1 '  They  look  like  something  very  pretty,  Mi 
nerva.  What  do  they  remind  you  of?" 

"A  pair  of  pants,"  said  Minerva,  with  a 
loud  laugh. 

"Dutchmen's  breeches,  do  you  mean?"  said 


MORE   NATURE   STUDY         201 

Ethel.  "Oh,  I  see  what  you  mean.  Yes, 
they  are  like  little  knickerbockers,  but  they 
remind  me  of  Japanese  lanterns.  Now,  Mi 
nerva,  the  woods  and  the  fields  are  full  of 
plants  like  these  and  they  all  have  names  and 
each  has  a  beauty  of  its  own  — " 

"What's  Dutchmen's  breeches?"  inter 
rupted  Minerva.  She  had  been  to  the  ' '  Con 
tinuous  ' '  many  times  and  I  think  that  Dutch 
men 's  breeches  brought  to  her  mind  a  pair, 
of  knockabout  comedians. 

"Do  you  think  there  are  any  in  this  field, 
Philip?"  said  Ethel. 

"You  have  got  me,  Ethel.  I  forget  each 
summer  the  names  of  the  flowers  I  learned 
the  summer  before.  Seems  to  me  Dutch 
men's  breeches  is  an  early  spring  flower." 

' '  No,  I  think  it  comes  in  the  late  fall  to  tell 
the  truth.  We'll  look  it  up." 

She  turned  to  the  index,  which  referred  her 
to  the  37th  page.  Minerva  looked  over  her 
shoulder  in  the  way  she  should  not  have  done 
and  no  sooner  did  she  see  the  flower  picture 
than  she  said, 

"Oh,  Lawdy,  that  makes  me  homesick. 
I've  seen  that  in  the  park." 


202      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

"Oh,  surely  not,"  said  Ethel.  "Let's  see 
what  it  says." 

'  *  Mmmmmm, ' '  she  mumbled  over  the  early 
part  of  the  description  and  then  she  came  to, 
'  The  flower  when  seen  explains  its  two  Eng 
lish  titles.  It  is  accessible  to  every  New 
Yorker,  for  in  early  April  it  whitens  many  of 
the  shaded  ledges  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
Central  Park.'  Why,  you  were  right,  Mi 
nerva.  I  dare  say  you  know  more  about  such 
things  than  I  do." 

"Why,  Mis.  Vernon,  I  haven'  any  grudge 
aginst  country  if  o  'ny  city  is  a  few  blocks  off. 
My,  if  I  could  run  down  now  an'  see  my  folks 
I'd  bring  'em  up  here  to-morrer.  I  used  to 
go  to  the  park  often  my  day  out,  but  the  city's 
all  around  it  an'  up  here  the  country's  so  big 
it — oh,  Lawdy,  what  was  that  1 ' ' 

It  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by  a 
clap  of  thunder  that  told  us  a  storm  was  close 
at  hand. 

"Ooh,  let's  get  under  the  trees,"  said  Mi 
nerva,  her  face  showing  abject  terror. 

"That  would  be  the  last  thing  to  do," 
said  I. 


MORE    NATURE    STUDY         203 

"Well,  let's  do  it  first,  then,"  said  she,  all 
unconscious  of  the  witticism. 

The  black  clouds  had  been  coming  swiftly 
and  now  in  the  southwest  we  heard  the  noise 
of  rain.  We  could  see  it  falling  on  Egerton 
and  could  mark  its  approach  up  the  hills  to 
where  we  were  standing. 

The  flashes  of  lightning  grew  more  blind 
ing  and  the  thunder  claps  followed  more  and 
more  quickly.  We  were  in  for  a  wetting,  that 
was  sure. 

Minerva  threw  herself  on  her  face  in  the 
soft  moss  and  began  to  pray,  "Oh,  Lawd," 
said  she;  "Don't  send  any  messengers  to  take 
me,  out  here  in  the  country.  Let  me  go  back 
to  the  city  befo' — Oh,  Lawdy."  This  break 
in  the  prayer  was  caused  by  a  flash,  and  a  peal 
that  were  almost  simultaneous,  and  down  in 
a  forest  of  walnuts  below  us  there  was  a 
sound  of  riven  wood. 

"Dear,  I  wish  we  were  home,"  said  Ethel, 
drawing  a  long  breath  and  coming  close  to 
me. 

"Well,  we  are  probably  safer  here  than  at 
home.  It'll  be  over  soon." 

And  now  the  rain  came  down  in  sheets. 


204      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

We  were  wet  to  the  skin  in  two  minutes.  Mi 
nerva  in  a  heap  on  the  ground  moaned  and 
prayed  and  ejaculated  and  Ethel  clung  to  me 
and  shuddered  at  each  awful  peal  and  each 
blinding  flash.  My  clothes  hung  in  bags 
about  me  and  leaked  at  a  dozen  points. 

The  display  was  magnificent,  but  I  did  not 
see  the  beauty  in  it  that  I  saw  when  I  was  a 
boy.  Then  I  was  not  frightened.  Now  each 
summer  the  storms  seem  to  be  worse  and 
more  awe-inspiring,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  so 
many  of  our  friends  have  suffered  loss  from 
thunder  storms  that  I  would  be  perfectly 
willing  to  forego  them  in  future. 

The  storm  departed  suddenly,  even  as  it 
had  come,  and  when  the  rumbling  grew 
fainter  Minerva  rose  to  her  feet. 

A  call  came  to  us  from  the  road.  We 
looked  up  and  saw  James,  also  soaked  to  the 
skin,  sitting  in  Bert's  buggy. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Minerva  gave  a 
glad  cry  and  started  to  run  to  him. 

He  made  a  trumpet  of  his  hands  and  said, 
"Mrs.  Vernon,  you  and  Mr.  Vernon  drive  and 
Minerva  and  me '11  walk." 

I  considered  a  minute  and  then  thinking 


MORE   NATURE   STUDY         205 

that  Ethel  ran  a  greater  risk  of  catching  cold 
if  she  rode  than  if  she  walked,  I  shook  my 
head  and  told  Minerva  to  run  along. 

We  took  one  or  two  steps  in  the  sloppy 
moss  and  our  shoes  spurted  water. 

"Let's  go  barefoot,"  said  I.  "It  will  be 
much  more  comfortable." 

We  took  off  our  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  many  years  we  walked 
the  country  barefoot.  Perhaps  it  was 
Ethel's  first  experience  of  the  joy.  To  judge 
from  her  face  it  was.  But  we  picked  out  soft 
places  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  house 
we  were  already  somewhat  dried,  nor  did  we 
get  any  ill  effects. 

"Ethel,"  said  I,  "what  was  that  white 
thing  Minerva  brought  to  sew  on?" 

"A  wedding  veil,"  said  Ethel. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

WHEN    THE   LAW    IS    ON. 

Ethel  was  out  in  the  little  orchard  south 
of  the  house  with  Minerva,  looking  for 
"queen's  lace."  She  had  two  purposes  in 
mind.  To  teach  Minerva  something  more  of 
nature  and  to  make  a  conventionalized  design 
of  the  ground  plan  of  the  flower  for  use  in  her 
everlasting  embroidery. 

"Mis.  Vernon." 

"What  is  it,  Minerva?" 

"Don't  the  apples  we  have  in  the  city  come 
from  the  country?" 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Ethel. 

She  told  me  of  the  conversation  later,  I 
being  at  the  time  fishing  for  trout  (in  all  in 
nocence)  with  James  (who  knew  the  law). 

"Well,  then,  how  come  that  apples  here  is 
so  little  and  city  apples  is  so  big?" 

"Why,"  said  Ethel,  "these  haven't  grown 
yet." 

206 


WHEN   THE   LAW  IS   ON       207 

* '  Do  they  grow  on  the  tree  f ' '  said  Minerva. 

"Why,  certainly.  You  surely  didn't  sup 
pose  that  they  grew  after  they  were  picked." 

"But  the  stems  is  so  little  that  I  wouldn't 
think  they'd  hold  apples  like  I  see  in  the 
grocery  stores." 

"Why,  but  the  stems  grow,  too." 

"Oh,"  said  Minerva. 

Minerva 's  ignorance  of  common  things  was 
a  never-ending  marvel. 

"Who  do  you  pay  for  these  apples,  Mis. 
Vernon,"  she  went  on. 

<  <  Why,  nobody.     They  go  with  the  house. ' ' 

And  then  Minerva  gave  utterance  to  a  wise 
remark. 

"Ain't  it  queer,  Mis.  Vernon,  that  in  the 
country,  where  you  don't  have  to  pay  for  ap 
ples,  every  man  has  apple  trees  of  his  own, 
and  in  the  city,  where  you  do  have  to  pay, 
nobody  has  any!" 

"Just  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Ethel, 
wishing  (as  she  told  me)  to  draw  out  Mi 
nerva's  thought. 

"Why,  I  mean  poor  people  in  the  city  has 
to  pay  for  apples,  an'  in  the  country  people 


208      MINERVA'S  MANOEUVRES 

don't  have  to  pay  for  'em,  but  it  don't  do  no 
good,  because  they  have  their  own  trees. ' ' 

"Well,  but  if  they  didn't  have  their  own 
trees,  they  would  have  to  pay  for  them, ' '  said 
Ethel,  puzzled. 

'  *  Yas  'm,  but  people  in  the  city,  if  they  had 
trees, —  I  mean  poor  people,  then  they 
wouldn't  have  to  pay  for  apples  and  they 
could  use  their  money  for  somethin'  else,  and 
people  in  the  country  has  more  money  than 
poor  people  in  the  city,  and  they  don't  have 
to  spend  it  on  apples,  because  they  have  'em 
on  their  own  trees. ' ' 

1 '  Oh,  I  see, ' '  said  Ethel.  ' l  You  mean  that 
it  doesn't  seem  fair  that  poor  people  in  the 
city,  who  would  appreciate  apples  on  their 
own  trees,  if  they  had  them,  have  to  pay  for 
apples,  while  in  the  country  people  who  could 
afford  to  pay  for  apples  don't  have  to,  but 
can  go  out  and  pick  them. '  ' 

"Yas'm,"  said  Minerva.  "I  guess  that's 
what  I  meant." 

1 1  Yes, ' '  said  Ethel.  * '  That  must  have  been 
just  what  you  meant.  There  are  a  great 
many  things  that  we  can't  understand  about 
those  things,  but  you  know  that  farmers  sell 


WHEN   THE  LAW  IS   ON       209 

their  apples  to  the  people  in  the  city,  and 
that's  one  of  the  ways  they  make  their 
money. ' ' 

Minerva  thought  a  minute.  "Apples  on 
the  stands  in  the  city  sells  for  five  cents,  and 
I've  seen  rows  of  trees  up  here  full  of  ap 
ples." 

"They  call  them  orchards,"  said  Ethel. 

"Why  don't  they  call  them  apples!"  asked 
Minerva. 

"No,  no,  the  rows  of  trees  are  called  or 
chards,  and  if  the  farmers  could  sell  the  ap 
ples  for  five  cents  apiece  they  would  make  a 
great  deal  of  money,  but  they  sell  them  to 
other  men,  who  sell  them  to  others,  and  they 
sell  them  to  the  men  who  keep  the  apple 
stands.  The  farmers  don't  get  a  cent  apiece 
for  them." 

Minerva's  mind  must  have  been  in  good 
working  order  that  day,  for  she  now  said, 

"If  the  poor  people  in  the  city  knew  they 
could  get  them  for  nothing  they  would  all 
come  to  the  country.  An',  Mis.  Vernon," 
said  she,  with  a  characteristic  chuckle,  "If 
the  farmers  knew  they  sold  for  five  cents  in 


210      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

the  city  they  'd  take  'em  down  theirselves  and 
sell  'em." 

Even  Minerva  felt  that  the  middle  man  was 
an  excrescence. 

They  were  still  hunting  for  the  queen's 
lace  when  I  returned  with  what  was  for  me 
a  fine  string  of  trout.  James  had  taken  his 
string  home. 

"Oh,  what  beauties.  Did  James  catch 
them  for  you?"  said  Ethel.  "We'll  have 
them  for  lunch."  Minerva  took  the  forked 
stick  that  held  the  half  dozen,  not  one  less 
than  eight  inches  in  length,  and  as  soon  as 
she  had  left,  Ethel  told  me  of  her  thoughtful 
conversation.  She  also  told  me  that  she  de 
spaired  of  getting  any  queen's  lace. 

"I  must  send  to  the  seedsman  for  some 
seeds  and  sprinkle  it  in  the  grass  so  that  we 
may  have  some  next  year." 

"Do  so,"  said  I  with  the  tone  that  fits 
superior  knowledge.  "Do  so,  and  help  fill 
the  cell  of  a  model  Massachusetts  prison. 
Don't  you  know  that  that's  wild  carrot  and 
it's  counted  as  big  a  nuisance  as  the  Canada 
thistle.  Don't  you  know  we'd  be  fined?" 

"Well,   certainly   farmers   don't  know  a 


WHEN   THE   LAW   IS   ON       211 

beautiful  thing  when  they  see  it,"  said  Ethel 
jumping  to  an  illogical  conclusion.  "Are 
you  sure  that  it  is  a  nuisance?  It  grew  all 
over  the  grass  in  Barnham. " 

"Yes,  and  they  were  shiftless  people  in 
that  place.  Here,  give  me  your  nature  book. ' ' 
I  took  it  and  soon  found  the  page.  "Here  it 
is:  'This  is,  perhaps,  the  "peskiest"  of  all 
the  weeds  with  which  he  has  to  contend.' 
The  farmer  may  think  it's  beautiful,  but  it 
isn't  beauty  so  much  as  a  living  that  he  is 
after.  We  have  to  obey  the  laws  in  a  civ 
ilized  state  like  Massachusetts.  It's  a  pun 
ishable  offence  to  let  it  grow." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  how  it  could  harm  just 
on  this  place.  Nobody  farms  it  very  near 
us." 

"No,  but  the  wind  has  a  way  of  carrying 
seeds,  Ethel,"  said  I,  sarcastically.  "It  was 
the  way  of  the  wind  with  a  seed  that  first 
suggested  rural  delivery,  I  have  no  doubt. 
Who  is  that  talking  to  Minerva?" 

It  was  a  man  who,  driving  by,  had  stopped 
and  hailed  her,  and  had  now  left  his  horse 
in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  had  gone  over 
to  her. 


212      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

We  could  not  hear  what  he  said,  but  we  saw 
her  suddenly  put  her  two  hands  behind  her 
back  as  if  to  conceal  her  string  of  fish. 

I  hurried  over  to  the  man,  followed  by 
Ethel. 

"Are  those  trout,"  said  the  man,  care 
lessly. 

"No,  they're  fishes,"  said  Minerva,  in  a 
tone  of  contempt  for  his  ignorance. 

"Yes,  they're  trout?"  said  I.  "Why  do 
you  want  to  know?" 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  that 
I  did  not  like. 

"Who  caught  those  trout,"  said  he. 

I  felt  like  saying,  "I,  said  the  fly  with  my 
hook  and  eye,"  but  I  really  did  say  "I  caught 
them.  Have  you  any  objections?" 

"Decidedly,"  said  he,  his  manner  becom 
ing  stern  and  official.  "I  am  the  game 
warden,  and  this  is  the  middle  of  July.  The 
law  went  on  on  July  1st.  I  can  arrest  you." 

There  seemed  to  be  something  cockily 
pompous  about  this  man,  who  was  not  above 
five  feet  high,  but  whose  erectness  of  bearing 
and  awesome  manner  made  him  seem  (to  him 
self)  at  least  six  feet  two  in  his  stocking  feet. 


WHEN   THE   LAW   IS   ON       213 

So  when  he  said  "I  can  arrest  yon,"  I  said, 
"And  will  you?"  and  felt  quite  Shakespear 
ean  as  I  said  it.  It  recalled  the  scene  be 
tween  Arthur  and  Hubert  de  Burgh. 

"Well,"  said  he,  seeing  that  I  stirred  not, 
"Perhaps  it  can  be  settled  out  of  court.  As 
game  warden  I  can  sell  you  the  right  to  have 
caught  those  fish." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  I,  "Bribery  and 
corruption.  And  in  Massachusetts.  Well,  I 
don 't  believe  I  care  to  buy  the  right.  I  went 
out  fishing  this  morning  not  knowing  of  the 
law.  Ignorance  of  the  law  is  no  excuse,  I 
know  that,  but  the  point  is,  that  if  I  have  got 
to  pay  out  money  I  prefer  to  pay  it  in  a  fine 
than  to  pay  it  to  you  for  a  right  you  can't 
give  me.  The  law  makes  no  distinction,  if 
I  know  anything  about  laws"  (and  I  know 
precious  little)  "and  if  I  mustn't  catch  trout 
out  of  season,  I  mustn't  catch  'em,  that's  all. 
Lead  me  to  prison." 

I  said  this  in  mock  heroics  and  he  in  his 
turn  said, 

"Well,  of  course,  I  didn't  mean  to  take  a 
bribe.  You  misunderstood  me.  As  game 
warden  I  own  the  fish.  I  represent  the  state 


214      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  the  state  owns  the  fish,  therefore  I  own 
them.  Now  you  have  caught  some  of  my  fish. 
I  can't  sell  you  the  right  to  catch  them,  very 
true,  but  I  can  sell  you  the  fish  now  that  they 
are  caught." 

Minerva's  hands  had  fallen  to  her  sides  and 
he  now  took  the  string  from  her,  while  she 
was  off  her  guard,  and  said : 

"There  are  six  of  them.  This  season  of 
the  year  they  are  worth  fifty  cents  apiece  for 
the  males  and  a  dollar  for  the  females." 

I  laughed  in  his  face. 

"My  dear  man,  if  you  think  I  am  going  to 
pay  anywhere  from  three  to  six  dollars  for 
a  fish  lunch  you  are  mistaken.  I'd  rather 
throw  away  the  fish  and  pay  my  fine  like  a 
man." 

"You  can't  throw  them  away,"  said  he,  de 
fiantly;  "I  have  the  fish  and  possession  is 
nine  points  of  the  law.  Did  you  have  an 
aider  and  abettor?" 

"I  refuse  to  answer,"  said  I. 

He  turned  quickly  on  Minerva.  "Did  your 
master  go  out  with  anyone!" 

"I  didn't  see  him  go  out,"  said  Minerva, 
sullenly.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  her 


WHEN   THE   LAW   IS   ON       215 

sympathies  were  not  with  the  myrmidon  of 
the  law. 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  this  law,"  said  I.  "I 
fished  innocently  and  I  am  willing  to  pay  the 
fine.  I  will  also  consider  it  my  duty  to  tell 
the  judge  that  you  attempted  to  compromise 
with  me  on  a  money  basis." 

His  manner  changed  in  a  twinkling.  ' '  See 
here,"  said  he.  "You're  a  stranger  up  here 
and  you're  from  the  city.  It's  easy  to  see 
that.  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do. ' ' 

He  walked  slowly  over  to  his  wagon,  hold 
ing  the  string  of  fish  in  front  of  him,  while 
he  gazed  at  them  thoughtfully.  He  climbed 
into  the  wagon  and  seemed  to  be  hunting  for 
something  under  the  seat.  He  soon  found 
it.  It  was  the  whip.  He  applied  it  to  the 
horse  and  the  animal  responded  in  a  spurt 
of  speed  that  took  him  out  of  sight  before 
we  realized  what  had  happened. 

Our  fish  lunch  was  gone. 

"I'm  glad  it  ended  that  way,"  said  Ethel. 
I  looked  at  her  and  saw  that  she  was  rather 
pale.  "It  would  have  been  dreadful  if  he 
had  arrested  you." 

"I  think  I'd  like  to  be  the  game  warden," 


216      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

said  I,  "if  people  generally  are  innocent  of 
the  law.  But  he  was  afraid  of  my  bribery 
talk.'* 

It  may  have  been  five  minutes  later  that 
Bert  drove  over  to  the  house  on  his  way  to 
town.  He  had  with  him  another  dish  of 
brains. 

"Bert,"  said  I,  "When  does  the  law  on 
trout  go  on?" 

"First  of  July,"  said  he. 

"What's  the  name  of  the  game  warden?" 

"Why,  father.  Been  fishin'?"  said  he, 
with  a  laugh. 

"Yes,  but  that  wasn't  your  father  that  you 
must  have  just  passed. ' ' 

"No,"  said  he.  "That's  Cy  Holden." 
He  laughed  reminiscently.  "Cy's  a  great 
boy." 

"How  is  he  great?" 

"Oh,  he's  always  playing  practical  jokes," 
said  he. 

"Much  obliged  for  the  brains,"  said  I. 
"We'll  have  them  for  lunch." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  STORY   OF  A  PIPE. 

I  suppose  that  there  are  prettier  places  in 
the  world  than  western  Massachusetts,  al 
though  I  should  consider  it  a  profitless  task 
to  try  to  find  them,  but  whether  it  arose  from 
the  beauty  of  the  scenery  or  the  witchery  of 
the  mountain  air,  certain  it  is  that  we  have 
never  stayed  at  a  country  place  that  exer 
cised  such  a  charm  over  us  as  did  the  rolling 
hills  and  valleys  around  Clover  Lodge. 
Ethel  was  not  less  under  its  influence  than 
I,  and  we  have  seen  how  Minerva,  coming 
there  with  an  evident  and  pronounced  dis 
gust  for  it,  was  now  coming  to  look  on  it  as 
home. 

All  the  events  connected  with  that  summer 
resolved  themselves  in  the  retrospect  into 
something  agreeable.  The  visits  in  turn  of 
the  burglar,  the  sheriff,  and  the  "game 
warden"  furnished  us  food  for  pleasant 

217 


218      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

talk,  and  our  early  and  frantic  attempts  to 
keep  Minerva  satisfied  did  not  seem  as  tragic 
when  looked  at  from  the  latter  end  of  July 
as  they  did  in  the  happening. 

It  was  a  few  days  after  our  loss  of  the  de 
licious  trout  lunch  that  we  received  an  un 
expected  call  from  a  neighbour. 

It  was  an  unusually  hot  night  for  Clover 
Lodge.  Ordinarily  a  blanket  was  not  too 
much,  no  matter  how  warm  the  day,  and  there 
were  nights  in  July  when  two  blankets  were 
necessary,  but  this  night  was  breathless,  and 
so  hot  that  a  sheet  would  have  felt  like  hot 
metal. 

We  had  retired  to  rest,  but  found  that  rest 
was  impossible.  It  was  a  night  in  which  to 
deplore  good  circulation  and  wish  for  cold 
feet. 

It  may  have  been  twelve  o'clock;  it  may 
have  been  much  later — we  had  no  striking 
clock  in  the  house — when  we  heard  uncertain 
steps  on  the  graveled  walk.  They  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  a  foot  slid 
along  the  floor  of  the  porch,  followed  by  a 
reluctant  mate,  a  heavy  hand  fell  against  the 
door  and  an  over-mellow  voice  called  out, 


THE    STORY    OF    A   PIPE        219 

"You  'wake,  papa?" 

I  was  only  too  wide  awake,  but  I  had  no 
children,  so  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to 
answer  his  question. 

A  muttering  arose  and  then  a  louder  query 
as  to  whether  "papa"  was  awake. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  said  Ethel. 

"Some  one  who  believes  in  local  option. 
I  wish  he'd  go  away." 

"Papa.  Papa.  It's  on'y  me.  I  wan'  a 
borrer  mash." 

1 '  What  does  he  want  f ' '  said  Ethel. 

"He  wants  a  match." 

"Oh,  tell  him  to  go  away.  He'll  set  the 
house  afire." 

"How  can  he  set  the  house  afire  if  he  hasn't 
a  match?  It  rests  with  me  whether  he  sets 
anything  afire." 

I  called  out  in  as  stentorian  a  tone  as  my 
lungs  would  allow  me  to  muster,  "Go  away. 
Go  home." 

My  voice  was  encouragement  to  the  tired 
wayfarer. 

"Oh,  papa.  Was  'frai'  you  was  'sleep. 
Papa,  'blizh  me  wi'  a  mash.  Mine  wen'  out. 
wan 'a  ligh'  a  pipe." 


220      MINEEVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

I  got  out  of  bed.  The  moon  had  about 
ended  its  lighting  services  for  the  night,  but 
I  could  see  the  form  of  a  man  sitting  on  the 
porch  seat,  his  head  swaying  from  side  to  side 
and  as  I  looked  he  again  lifted  up  his  voice 
and  said, 

"Papa,  don'  you  hear  me  I  Be  neighbourly, 
papa. ' ' 

"I  don't  find  any  matches,"  said,  I  with  a 
fine  Puritanical  regard  for  the  letter  of  the 
truth.  I  found  none  because  I  did  not  look 
for  them. 

My  denial  of  his  request  worked  on  the 
sensibilities  of  my  unknown  neighbour  to  such 
an  extent  that  he  was  moved  to  tears.  Amid 
his  maudlin  sobs  he  said, 

"Pa 'a,  if  you  came  to  my  house  in  dea' 
night  an'  as'  me  for  mash  I'd  leshu  have  one. 
I'm  kin'  hearted,  pa 'a.  On'y  one  mash  I  as' 
an'  pa 'a  refuses.  My  pipe'  gone  out  an' 
pa 'a  has  box's  mashes  an'  he  can'  fin'  one." 

It  did  seem  a  little  like  a  disobliging  spirit 
and  I  moved  to  the  bureau  to  get  one,  but 
Ethel  said, 

"Don't  give  him  one.    He'll  set  himself  on 


THE    STORY   OF   A   PIPE       221 

fire  or  else  set  fire  to  the  grass.  Tell  him 
to  go  away." 

Ethel  has  a  horror  of  drunken  gentlemen 
or  even  drunken  men,  who  are  not  gentlemen, 
and  I  could  do  no  more  than  respect  her 
wishes. 

I  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  said  in  very 
much  the  tone  one  would  assume  in  talking  to 
a  wilful  little  dog, 

"Now  go  home.  Go  right  home.  You 
may  catch  cold  if  you  stay  here.  I  can't  let 
you  have  a  match." 

"Papa,  if  I  caught  cold  ni'  like  this  I'd 
know  wha'  do  with  it.  Mos'  hot  'nough  to 
ligh'  my  pipe.  Goo'  bye,  papa.  Mos'  un- 
neighbourly,  papa."  He  rose  from  his  seat 
and  swayed  down  the  walk  until  he  came  to 
the  gate. 

"Papa,  I  shut  your  gate  for  you.  No  har* 
feelin's,  papa.  Mos'  unneighbourly,  but  I 
shu7  your  gate." 

And  muttering  and  stumbling,  he  went 
along  to  his  home. 

Ethel,  with  an  absence  of  logic  that  must 
have  been  due  to  the  heat,  lay  awake  for  an 
hour  in  fear  that  the  matchless  man  would 


222      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

set  fire  to  the  house  in  revenge,  but  we  did 
not  hear  from  him  again. 

Next  morning  I  found  a  pipe  in  the  grass 
not  far  from  the  gate.  I  said  nothing  about 
it  to  Ethel,  but  when  opportunity  offered  I 
showed  it  to  James  and  asked  him  if  he  knew 
whose  it  was. 

"Looks  like  Sam  Adams's,"  said  he. 
"Yes,  there's  S.  A.  scratched  on  the  bowl." 

I  knew  Sam  Adams  (fictitious  name)  to  be 
a  hard  working  farmer  of  some  thirty  years 
of  age,  a  young  married  man  with  an  adoring 
wife  and  pretty  baby  and  with  a  lack  of  tact 
that  I  have  never  ceased  to  wonder  at  I  re 
solved  to  restore  the  pipe  to  him.  I  learned 
from  Bert  that  once  in  a  while  he  would  go 
down  to  Grange  Meeting  and  would  stop  on 
the  way  back  for  beverages  that  he  did  not 
need. 

The  opportunity  soon  offered  itself.  I 
was  out  walking  by  myself  one  Sunday  after 
noon  and  I  came  on  him  inspecting  some 
buckwheat  that  was  coming  along  finely. 

I  leaned  on  the  fence  that  separated  us  and 
passed  the  time  of  day  with  him. 

He  was  cordial,  as  he  always  was. 


THE   STORY   OF   A  PIPE       223 

*  '  Nice  hay  weather, ' '  said  I,  a  phrase  that 
I  had  picked  up  very  easily  and  worked  a 
good  deal. 

"Yes,  if  it  wasn't  the  Sabbath,"  said  he, 
"or  if  my  grass  land  was  a  leetle  further 
away. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Adams, ' '  said  I,  "  I  picked  something 
up  the  other  day  that  I  think  belongs  to  you. ' ' 

His  manner,  which  had  been  warm,  became 
frigid  as  he  said,  "I  guess  not.  I  haven't 
missed  anything. ' ' 

"Isn't  this  yours?"  said  I,  producing  the 
pipe. 

He  looked  me  coldly  in  the  eye  and  said,  "I 
never  saw  that  before." 

I,  on  my  part,  saw  something  that  I  had 
not  seen  before.  I  put  the  pipe  into  my 
pocket,  feeling  that  I  had  put  my  foot  in  it. 

Anxious  to  make  amends,  I  pulled  out  a 
cigar  and  said,  "Have  one." 

Relaxing,  he  accepted  it  and  biting  off  the 
end  he  put  it  in  his  mouth. 

"Got  a  match,"  said  I  without  thinking. 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  said  he  turning  away 
his  head. 


224 

I  lighted  a  cigar  and  we  puffed  silently  for 
a  minute  or  two. 

"Weather's  been  hot  enough  lately,  to 
drive  a  man  to  drink, "  said  I.  "Better  take 
your  pipe  and  think  no  more  about  it. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  as  he  put  it  into 
his  pocket.  And  we  became  good  friends 
from  that  hour. 


CHAPTER  XVHI. 

WE  FIND  A  PIANO. 

As  matters  were  now  running  so  swim 
mingly  with  us,  Ethel  invited  an  old  school 
friend  of  hers  to  come  and  pay  us  a  visit. 

Miss  Paxton,  "Cherry,"  as  most  of  her 
friends  call  her,  is  an  unusually  talented 
woman.  She  can  draw  very  well  indeed,  and 
she  can  play  the  piano  in  an  almost  profes 
sional  way.  Tall  and  slender,  with  a  facial 
animation  that  is  almost  beauty,  she  is  a  gen 
eral  favorite  by  virtue  of  her  buoyant  spirits 
and  readiness  for  whatever  is  going  on. 

When  Minerva  heard  that  she  was  coming 
up  she  clapped  her  hands  and  said, 

"My-6h-my\  I'm  glad  to  hear  she's  comin'. 
Now  we  will  have  music. ' ' 

She  meant  piano  music,  for  Miss  Paxton 
did  not  sing.  But  we  had  no  piano. 


225 


226      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

I  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  get  one, 
because  Ethel,  while  very  fond  of  music  and 
with  a  cultivated  taste  for  it,  is  not  able  to 
play.  Her  father  thought  that  so  many  peo 
ple  now-a-days  play  the  piano  badly,  that  it 
was  just  as  well  not  to  play  it  at  all,  and  he 
would  never  hear  of  her  taking  lessons. 

As  Miss  Paxton  was  only  going  to  be  up 
a  week,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  worth  while  send 
ing  to  Springfield  for  a  piano.  I  did  not 
know  at  the  time  that  there  was  a  wareroom 
in  Egerton. 

We  talked  it  over,  Ethel  and  I,  and  we 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  would  help 
Cherry  to  enjoy  herself  without  music — 
unless  she  should  show  an  unexpected  predi 
lection  for  the  accordeon,  in  which  case  we 
had  no  doubt  that  Minerva  would  lend  her  her 
instrument. 

Cherry  was  coming  on  a  Saturday,  and 
we  were  to  drive  to  Egerton  to  meet  her. 

Friday  afternoon  we  went  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Hartlett,  an  old  lady,  who  was  in  her  hun 
dredth  year,  and  in  almost  complete  posses 
sion  of  her  faculties. 

I  feel  that  I  owe  it  to  Mrs.  Hartlett  to 


WE   FIND   A   PIANO  227 

give  some  account  of  our  visit  to  her,  al 
though  the  real  object  of  this  chapter  is  to 
tell  what  was  happening  during  our  absence 
from  home. 

Mrs.  Hartlett  was  a  widow,  her  husband 
having  died  eighty-one  years  before. 

"Just  think  of  it,  Philip,"  said  Ethel,  as 
we  began  to  descend  the  little  hill  at  the  foot 
of  which  Mrs.  Hartlett  lived  with  a  grand 
daughter,  a  woman  verging  on  sixty  years, 
and  almost  as  old  looking  as  her  grand 
mother. 

"Just  think  of  it;  for  the  best  part  of  her 
life  Mrs.  Hartlett  has  had  a  young  husband." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  I,  not  at  once 
seeing  her  drift. 

' '  Why,  the  memory  of  her  husband  is  that 
of  a  young  man.  They  said  he  was  only 
twenty-two  when  he  died,  and  for  over  eighty 
years  she  has  had  that  picture  in  her  mem 
ory.  ' ' 

"It's  probably  kept  tier  young,"  said  I. 

We  found  her  sitting  outside  of  her  door 
under  a  grape  arbour,  knitting.  Her  face  was 
thin  and  her  cheek  bones  high  and  the  skin 
was  drawn  tightly,  but  its  colour  had  a  remi- 


niscence  of  the  rosy  shade  that  had  (so  tra 
dition  said)  made  her  a  beauty  "in  the  days 
when  Madison  was  president." 

She  was  erect,  and  despite  a  slight  tremb- 
ling  of  her  frame,  she  looked  strong. 

"We  thought  we'd  come  and  see  you  and 
bring  you  some  sweet  peas,"  said  Ethel. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,"  said  she,  in  a 
voice  which  though  cracked  had  a  pleasant 
ring  of  sincerity  in  it.  "You  are  the  Ver- 
nons,  are  you  not?" 

I  was  surprised  that  so  old  a  soul  should 
be  enough  interested  in  things  to  know  who 
transient  summer  people  were,  but  I  suppose 
it  was  that  very  interest  in  things  that  had 
kept  her  faculties  unimpaired. 

As  I  looked  at  her  I  felt  proud  of  New  Eng 
land.  Perfectly  self-possessed,  abundantly 
able  to  hold  her  own  in  conversation,  re 
spected  by  all  and  self-respecting,  she  was  a 
type  of  that  native  cultivation  that  made  the 
hill  towns  a  source  of  strength  to  the  nation, 
before  the  coming  of  steam  cars  that  drew 
the  young  men  and  maidens  from  the  hills 
and  sent  them  forth  to  carry  New  England 
traditions  to  the  West, 


WE    FIND   A   PIANO  229 

"Yes,  so  you've  heard  of  us." 

"Oh,  yes,  the  young  people  come  in  and 
keep  me  informed  of  all  passing  matters," 
said  she,  talking  slowly  and  evidently  choos 
ing  her  words  with  care. 

"Pray  be  seated,"  said  she  quaintly,  and 
we  took  seats  under  the  pleasant  grape  ar 
bour. 

Suddenly  a  canary,  whose  cage  hung  in  the 
centre  of  the  arbour,  burst  into  a  roulade  that 
had  something  of  the  bubbling  ecstacy  of  a 
bobolink's  note. 

Mrs.  Hartlett  looked  up  at  him  and  smiled. 

"He  is  a  source  of  comfort  to  me,"  said 
she.  "He  sings  as  long  as  the  sun  shines. 
Last  winter  he  was  mute  for  upwards  of  a 
week,  and  I  feared  that  I  was  going  to  lose 
him,  but  it  was  only  that  he  was  moulting. 
"When  his  new  coat  had  come  he  began  singing 
again  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  has  no 
mate  he  is  happy." 

Two  mateless  creatures  and  both  of  them 
happy.  It's  all  in  the  temperament. 

"How  do  you  like  it  up  on  these  hills?" 
said  Mrs.  Hartlett. 

"Very  much,"  said  Ethel.    "It  is  so  quiet 


230      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

and  there  are  so  few  houses  that  it 's  a  pleas 
ant  contrast  to  our  noisy,  busy  New  York 
life." 

"  Child,  I  remember  when  this  was  a  busy 
community,  too,"  said  the  old  lady.  "When 
I  was  a  young  lady  of  eighteen,  we  had  a 
singing  school  here  and  Dr.  Lowell  Mason 
used  to  come  from  Boston  every  two  weeks 
to  teach  us,  and  there  were  two  hundred 
young  people  of  both  sexes  who  gathered  in 
the  seminary  to  learn  of  him." 

"You  had  a  seminary  here?"  said  I,  aston 
ished,  for  the  district  school  of  the  present 
day  is  the  only  school  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  it  does  not  accommodate  more  than 
twenty-five. 

"Indeed  we  did;  a  seminary  and  a  college 
for  chirurgeons.  Dr.  Hadley  was  the  best 
chirurgeon  of  his  time  and  young  men  from 
all  over  New  England  used  to  come  here  to 
learn  of  him.  Times  have  changed,  but  if  the 
houses  have  fallen  away  and  the  people  gone 
the  country  has  grown  more  beautiful." 

"How  do  you  pass  the  time?" 

"With  my  magazines  and  my  young 
friends.  I  have  taken  Litt ell's  Living  Age 


WE   FIND   A   PIANO  231 

and  the  Atlantic  ever  since  they  started,  and 
they  keep  me  abreast  of  the  times,  and  the 
young  people  are  very  good.  Two  years  ago 
they  clubbed  together  and  gave  me  a  cabinet 
organ.  I  cannot  play  it  myself;  my  fingers 
are  too  stiff,  but  the  young  folks  come  in 
and  play  me  the  old  tunes  I  knew  when  I 
was  a  girl — "  Drink  to  Me  Only  With  Thine 
Eyes,"  and  many  others  that  are  never  heard 
now,  I  suspect,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hayden  are 
especially  kind  in  coming  to  sing  to  me  but  all 
the  young  people  are  very  thoughtful." 

It  was  not  until  later  that  I  realized  that 
the  "young  people"  she  had  specified  were 
considerably  over  fifty.  But  she  was  right. 
Youth  is  a  relative  term. 

' '  Do  you  walk  about  much  1 ' ' 

"When  my  rheumatism  permits  of  walking. 
My  knees  are  somewhat  rheumatic  but  it  is 
no  more  than  I  might  reasonably  expect  at  my 
great  age.  I  shall  be  one  hundred  years  old 
on  the  16th  of  September  next  if  the  Lord 
spares  me." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  pride  in  her  eyes  as 
she  said  this.  She  was  striving  for  a  goal. 


232      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

We  rose  to  go  soon  after,  fearing  that  we 
might  tire  her  if  we  stayed  too  long. 

"Oh,  don't  go  yet,"  said  she,  half  rising 
and  putting  out  her  mitted  hand.  '  *  You  have 
barely  come.  I  want  that  you  should  see  my 
cat.  I  am  quite  proud  of  my  cat.  She  was 
given  to  me  by  a  play  actor  who  spent  last 
summer  here.  I  was  brought  up  to  consider 
play  acting  an  abomination  to  the  Lord  but 
we  live  and  learn  and  this  gentleman  was  an 
honest,  God-fearing  man  although  he  has  been 
a  play  actor  ever  since  his  youth.  I  cannot 
recall  his  name.  Names  have  a  way  of  going 
from  one.  It  is  one  of  the  defects  of  age  with 
which  we  must  be  patient. 

"Pussy,  pussy,"  said  she,  calling  in  falset 
to. 

Whether  in  answer  to  the  call  or  merely 
because  Her  Independence  decided  that  it  was 
time  for  her  to  come  out  and  stroll  about  I 
cannot  say  but  at  that  minute  a  most  magnifi 
cent  Angora  jumped  heavily  from  a  chair  in 
the  sitting  room  (as  I  saw  from  my  seat  un 
der  the  arbour)  and  walked  out  to  us.  She 
walked  over  to  Ethel  and  sniffed  her  dress 
and  passed  her  by.  Then  she  came  to  me  and 


WE   FIND   A   PIANO  233 

sniffed  my  trouser  leg  and  arching  her  back 
she  rubbed  against  me  and  began  to  purr  in 
tremendous  fashion,  quite  like  a  young  lion. 

The  old  lady  laughed  cheerily. 

"She  always  shows  a  penchant  for  gentle 
men,"  said  she.  "You  never  will  guess  her 
name.  The  play  actor  named  her. ' ' 

"Lady  Macbeth?"  said  I,  quite  at  a  ven 
ture. 

"Why,  my  sakes,"  said  Mrs.  Hartlett. 
"You  are  right.  You  must  be  a  Yankee. 
You  know  we  are  said  to  be  able  to  guess  al 
most  anything." 

"Well,  if  I'm  not  a  Yankee  born  I'm  one  in 
spirit.  My  ancestors  came  from  Connecti 
cut." 

"The  'land  of  steady  habits.'  Stop,  Mac 
beth.  Don 't  let  her  sharpen  her  claws  in  that 
fashion.  I  call  her  Macbeth  half  the  time 
although  she  has  a  much  better  character 
than  Macbeth  had." 

' '  So  you  read  Shakespeare  ? ' '  said  I. 

"I  never  did  until  in  recent  years.  The 
pastor  we  had  a  few  years  back,  in  '65,  I 
think  it  was,  told  me  that  there  was  much  in 
him  that  would  repay  me  and  I  have  found  it 


234      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

so.  I  sometimes  think  that  we  of  the  last  cen 
tury  were  narrow.  It  came  about  from  our 
isolation.  The  easier  modes  of  getting  about 
have  made  us  better  acquainted  with  our 
world  neighbours." 

I  signalled  to  Ethel  and  we  again  rose. 

''Do  you  feel  that  you  must  go?"  said  Mrs. 
Hartlett.  "I  thank  you  for  coming  and  I  am 
sorry  that  I  cannot  offer  you  something  in 
the  way  of  refreshment  but  my  granddaugh 
ter  has  gone  to  town  and  I  find  that  it  does 
not  do  for  me  to  try  to  handle  cups  and  sau 
cers  and  glasses  for  my  old  wrists  are  tired  of 
service  and  they  play  me  strange  tricks." 

We  shook  hands  with  the  old  lady  and  as 
we  came  away  she  said : 

"When  you  can  find  nothing  better  worth 
doing  come  and  see  me. ' ' 

' '  Well,  she  is  the  real  thing, ' '  said  I  as  we 
got  out  of  hearing. 

"Ninety-nine  years  young  and  growing 
younger  every  year.  Think  of  her  hobnob 
bing  with  a  play  actor.  I  wonder  who  he 
was." 

"Why,  but  aren't  actors  all  right?"  asked 
Ethel. 


WE    FIND   A   PIANO  235 

"Yes,  they  are  if  they  are,  but  you  don't 
know  what  it  meant  for  her,  brought  up  as 
she  had  been,  to  acknowledge  that  an  actor 
might  be  a  good  man.  It  showed  great  inde 
pendence  of  mind. ' ' 

"What  poise  she  had,"  said  Ethel. 

'  *  She  could  stand  before  kings. ' ' 

'  *  And  the  kings  might  well  feel  honoured. '  * 

We  walked  slowly  back  as  Ethel  was  trying 
to  see  how  many  kinds  of  wild  flowers  she 
could  pick.  Mrs.  Dana's  book  had  had  an 
effect  upon  her  she  had  not  anticipated  and 
I  was  afraid  that  she  was  going  to  become  a 
botanist  and  talk  about  pistils  and  stamens, 
and  things. 

I  believe  she  had  picked  twenty-five  differ 
ent  "weeds,"  as  the  farmers  thereabouts 
called  them,  when  she  stopped  and  stood  erect 
and  listened.  , 

"Where's  that  piano?" 

"Is  it  a  piano,"  said  I,  not  willing  to  be 
lieve  the  evidence  of  my  ears.  We  were 
about  ten  rods  from  our  house  and  there  is 
not  another  house  nearer  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  and  no  piano  within  a  half  mile. 


236      MINEEVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

' '  It  certainly  is  a  piano  and  in  our  house, ' ' 
said  she. 

What  we  had  heard  were  preliminary 
chords  and  now  to  a  bang-bang  accompani 
ment  we  heard  the  pleasing  lyric,  "Hannah, 
Won't  You  Open  That  Door,"  and  recognized 
the  voice  as  that  of  James. 

"First  a  crimson  rambler  and  now  a 
piano,"  said  I.  "I  suppose  he  planted  a  few 
keys  and  the  piano  sprang  up  quickly." 

"Well,  what  does  it  mean?" 

"It  means,"  said  I,  "that,  however  it  may 
have  happened,  we  have  a  piano  in  the  house 
and  Cherry  can  play  when  she  comes. ' ' 

We  now  noticed  wheel  tracks,  some  of  them 
on  our  lawn  and  we  knew  that  James  had  not 
worked  a  miracle  but  that  the  piano  had 
come  to  the  house  by  very  human  agencies. 
A  broken  plant  showed  where  a  horse's  hoof 
had  toyed  with  it. 

Our  appearance  on  the  path  was  the  signal 
for  the  music  to  stop  and  Minerva  came  to  the 
door  perfectly  radiant. 

"It's  come,  ma'am.  The  pianner  has 
come,"  said  she,  her  eyes  dancing  with  de 
light. 


WE   FIND   A   PIANO  237 

"Well,  who  sent  it?"  said  I. 

James  had  come  out. 

"Where  did  the  piano  come  from,  James?" 

"I  do 'no,'  sir,"  said  he.  "I  found  it  here 
when  I  come  up  to  the  house." 

' '  Why,  it  come  in  a  wagon, ' '  said  Minerva. 

She  looked  me  in  the  eye  and  then  she  gave 
one  of  her  chuckles. 

"Say,  Mist.  Vernon,  didn'  you  order  it?" 

"No,  "said  I. 

She  clapped  her  hands  rapturously. 
"Then  you  can  thank  me  for  it,  Mist.  Ver 
non  and  we'll  have  music  when  Miss  Cherry 
comes.  I  half  knowed  he  didn't  mean  it  for 
here  but  I  wanted  it." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Minerva?  Tell  us 
what  happened." 

"Why,  it  was  this  way.  I  was  moppin'  de 
kitchen  an'  I  see  a  man  pass  the  winder,  an* 
I  thought  maybe  it  was  tramps,  an'  I  clinched 
the  mop  an'  got  ready  to  run,  an'  a  man 
comes  to  the  back-kitchen  door  an'  asks  where 
he 's  to  put  the  pianner. 

"  'What  pianner?'  says  I.  'Why,  the  on'y 
pianner  we've  brought,'  says  he,  'for  Mr. 
Werner.'  " 


238      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"  'Vernon,'  says  I.  'Well,  Vernon,'  says 
he,  *  Where '11  I  put  it,'  says  he,  and  I  says, 
'Right  in  the  parlour,'  and  I  walked  thoo  to 
show  him,  and  he  went  out  to  the  other  man 
an'  they  unstrapped  it  an'  like  to  ha'  broke 
the  porch  floor  gettin'  it  in,  an'  they  set  it  up 
an'  unlocked  it  an'  then  they  gev  me  the 
recippy  to  sign  an'  it  was  written  on  it,  'Mr. 
H.  Werner,'  but  I  thought  as  long  as  the 
pianner  was  up  an'  you'd  like  it  I  wouldn't 
tell  'em  they'd  made  a  mistake,  an'  I  signed 
the  recippy  an'  they  drove  off." 

I  looked  at  Ethel. 

"It's  fate,"  said  she. 

"Do  you  know  where  it  came  from?"  said 
I  to  Minerva. 

' '  No,  sir.    From  that  away. ' ' 

"Oh,  there's  only  one  place,"  spoke  up 
James:  "It  came  from  Hill's  in  Egerton. 
He  rents  'em. ' ' 

It  was  a  time  when  quick  thought  would  be 
a  good  thing.  "James,"  said  I,  "you  go 
right  down  to  Hill 's  and  tell  him  that  he  sent 
a  piano  to  me  by  mistake  but  that  I  want  to 
keep  it,  and  that  he  'd  better  send  another  to 


WE  FIND  A  PIANO  239 

the  Werner's  before  they  make  a  kick  about 
it." 

"Won't  we  have  fun  when  Cherry  comes?" 
said  Ethel  after  the  others  had  gone  and  we 
stood  looking  at  the  case  that  had  the  poten 
tiality  of  so  much  pleasure  in  it. 

"Minerva  is  a  treasure,"  said  L 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


TH'  OULD  SCUT. 


I  have  made  mention  of  the  fact  that  dur 
ing  the  haying  season  horses  were  difficult  to 
get.  We  generally  relied  on  Bert,  but  he 
was  not  always  able  to  supply  us  with  a  means 
of  conveyance  to  town.  I  had  counted  on 
him  to  bring  Miss  Paxton  up,  but  I  had  neg 
lected  to  say  anything  to  him  about  it  and  our 
telepathic  communication  was  out  of  kilter, 
for  he  never  felt  my  desire,  and  so  it  fell  out 
that  when  at  four  o'clock  of  Saturday  after 
noon  I  realized  this  and  Ethel  and  I  went 
down  to  his  father's  to  get  him  to  harness 
up,  we  learned  that  he  and  his  father  were 
over  in  the  "east  lot"  getting  in  some  val 
uable  hay — the  weather  threatening  thunder 
storms — and  that  we  could  not  possibly  have 
either  of  the  horses. 

Here  was  a  pretty  how-de-do. 

It  was  ten  minutes  after  four  and  the  train 

240 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  241 

came  to  Egerton,  three  miles  away,  at  4:58. 
We  might  walk  down  and  hire  a  livery  team 
but  even  at  that  it  would  require  speed. 

In  my  dilemma  Bert's  mother  suggested 
that  we  try  Pat  Casey. 

' '  He  lives  in  the  little  red  house  beyond  the 
ruins  of  the  old  church, ' '  said  she,  ' '  and  you 
may  be  able  to  hire  his  horse." 

Across  the  fields  to  the  little  red  house  we 
hurried.  A  short,  lithe,  nimble-footed  man 
was  tossing  hay  in  front  of  his  house.  We 
climbed  the  last  fence  and  stood  before  him. 

He  looked  up  and  greeted  us  pleasantly,  his 
eyes  twinkling  with  what  looked  like  sup 
pressed  mischief. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Casey?" 

"I'm  Pat  Casey.  Divil  a  hair  I  care  about 
the  Misther,"  said  he,  leaning  on  his  rake 
and  bobbing  his  head  at  us. 

"Well,"  said  I,  hurriedly,  "We  want  to  go 
down  to  Egerton  to  meet  a  friend  who  is  com 
ing  on  the  4:58.  Can  you  let  us  hire  your 
team?" 

He  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  Is  it  hire  ?    Divil  a  hire.    If  ye  dare  trust 


242      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

your  legs  in  me  caart  you're  welkim  to  use  me 
ould  scut  of  a  harse — bad  scran  to  her. ' ' 

The  ''bad  scran"  was  delivered  with  a 
laugh  that  robbed  it  of  all  animosity  and  set 
ting  his  rake  against  a  tree  he  led  the  way  to 
a  tumble  down  barn  that  sheltered  a  more 
tumble  down  dirt  cart,  and  a  yet  more  tumble 
down  horse.  It  certainly  was  an  "ould 
scut,"  whatever  that  is.  It  was  blind  in  one 
eye ;  its  back  seemed  trying  to  showHogarth  's 
line  of  beauty  in  the  form  of  a  deep  curve, 
and  its  four  legs  stood  not  under  its  body  but 
at  obtuse  angles  to  it,  as  if  it  had  been  stag 
gering  with  a  heavy  weight  long  enough  and 
was  now  about  to  break  in  two  in  the  middle. 

And  yet  when  Pat  slapped  the  animal  on 
the  flank  and  spoke  a  word  or  two  to  it  the 
horse  whinnied  and  pricked  up  its  ears  and 
looked  intelligently  out  of  its  only  seeing  eye, 
and  I  judged  that  it  would  not  be  cruelty  to 
animals  to  take  it. 

But  when  I  saw  the  harness,  which  was 
eked  out  by  strings  and  ropes,  when  I  saw 
that  the  cart  was  literally  a  dirt  cart  and  that 
we  would  have  to  sit  in  hay,  I  decided  that  we 
would  use  the  horse  only  to  get  us  down  there 


a- 

CO 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  243 

and  that  I  would  then  hire  a  livery  team  to 
bring  Cherry  up  and  would  pay  Pat  to  go 
back  in  it  and  get  his  horse. 

"You're  sure  the  horse  will  be  able  to  pull 
us  down?"  said  I  to  Pat. 

"Hell,  yes,"  said  he,  genially,  looking  at 
Ethel  as  he  spoke.  "Sure  'tis  gentle  as  a 
kitten.  Ther'  wife  there  'd  make  a  pet  of 
um  if  she  had  him.  Not  afred  of  the  trolley 
caars.  Egorry  when  he  was  a  colt  there  was 
not  wan  finer  annywhere.  He'd  be  a  hell  of  a 
fine  harse  now,  sorr,  on'y  fer  a  shlight  weak 
ness  in  his  back.  He's  the  bye '11  carry  you 
down  on  time.  Don't  be  afraid  of  the  whip, 
on'y  let  him  see  it  before  you  use  it  an'  thin 
he'll  know  what  to  expect." 

All  the  time  he  was  talking  he  was  harness 
ing  the  "scut,"  as  he  chose  to  designate  it, 
and  I,  to  save  time,  ran  the  cart  out. 

"Don't  you  want  to  go  back,  Ethel? 

"No,  it'll  be  loads  of  fun  to  go  down  this 
way,"  laughed  Ethel,  and  immediately  Pat 
gave  her  an  encouraging  nod  of  the  head  and 
said,  "Me  leddy,  take  life  as  it  comes.  It's 
a  dam  site  betther  'n  findin '  fault. ' ' 

I  would  have  resented  these  strong  words 


addressed  to  Mrs.  Vernon  if  he  had  been 
somebody  else,  but  his  oaths  were  as  harmless 
and  void  of  offense  as  the  ejaculations  of  a 
sunny  tempered  child.  I  am  not  sure  that 
he  would  have  understood  the  nature  of  an 
oath. 

He  helped  Ethel  in  with  Irish  politeness, 
handed  me  the  dreadful  looking  reins,  and 
taking  off  his  hat  he  said : 

"Don't  spare  um.  He's  strarng  as  a — as 
a  harse,  th'ould  scut." 

Then  he  slapped  the  horse  again  on  the 
flank  and  with  a  "To  hell  wid  ye,"  addressed 
to  the  animal,  he  went  back  to  his  haying  and 
we  started  on  our  journey  to  town. 

The  horse  could  go  but  I  soon  learned  that 
he  did  not  regard  the  whip  as  anything  at  all. 
I  showed  it  to  him  before  using  and  he  pricked 
his  ears  each  time  I  showed  it,  but  that  was 
merely  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  understand  what 
you  mean,  but  I'm  doing  my  best  as  it  is." 

The  cart  was  not  easy,  but  Ethel  was  out 
for  a  lark  and  she  considered  our  passage  in 
this  vehicle  in  the  nature  of  a  lark.  For  my 
part  I  was  ashamed  of  the  rig. 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  245 

'  *  Remember  that  you  are  to  dress  for  din 
ner,"  said  she. 

"Does  this  look  like  dressing  for  dinner?" 
said  I  with  a  look  at  the  impossible  beast  in 
front  of  me. 

"Well,  but  Cherry  won't  see  him,  and  I 
am  sure  that  she  is  always  used  to  seeing 
men  dressed  for  dinner." 

"If  I  know  Cherry  Paxton  at  all  she  will 
be  glad  to  be  free  from  all  conventions  for  a 
short  time.  I  will  take  her  into  our  room  and 
I  will  show  her  my  suit  all  laid  out  on  the  bed 
and  I'll  ask  her  to  try  to  realize  how  I'd  look 
if  I  wore  it,  and  I  will  be  comfortable  in  an 
outing  shirt  and  sack  coat  as  usual." 

Further  conversation  along  these  lines  was 
stopped  at  that  moment  because  the  beast 
stepped  on  its  foot,  or  did  something  equally 
absurd,  that  caused  it  to  limp  along  on  three 
legs  for  a  few  yards  and  then  stop. 

I  got  out  and  looked  at  its  hoof — somewhat 
gingerly,  for  I  am  not  used  to  horses.  It  did 
not  seem  to  be  suffering  pain  but  it  looked  at 
me  out  of  its  well  eye  and  seemed  to  say, 
"This  is  where  I  stop." 

I  climbed  into  the  cart  and  I  tightened  the 


246      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

reins  and  clucked  and  applied  the  whip,  but 
to  no  purpose.  The  horse  looked  around  at 
me  in  a  languid  way,  but  he  refused  to  budge. 

"Nice,"  said  I,  looking  at  my  watch. 
"Quarter  to  five,  and  we've  got  at  least  two 
miles  to  go  yet.  I  wonder  how  Pat  starts 
him." 

"He  used  languages,"  said  Ethel  suggest 
ively. 

"Thanks.    So  he  did." 

Once  more  I  pulled  on  the  reins,  clucked 
and  plupped  and  whipped  (not  viciously,  but 
ticklingly)  and  once  more  the  horse  did  not 
move. 

"To  hell  wid  ye,"  said  I  suddenly,  and  it 
worked  like  a  charm.  The  old  beast  took  up 
his  ungraceful  trot,  and  we  jolted  along  to  the 
station. 

I  had  meant  to  hitch  the  horse  on  the  out 
skirts  of  Egerton  and  walk  up  to  the  station 
in  style,  but  as  we  neared  the  Congregational 
Church  I  saw  that  it  lacked  but  two  minutes 
of  train  time,  and  so  setting  aside  pride,  in 
my  anxiety  to  meet  our  guest,  I  whipped  him 
up  the  incline  that  leads  to  the  station,  and 
just  as  we  drove  up  to  the  platform  the  train 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  247 

pulled  in,  and  out  of  the  drawing-room  car 
came  Cherry,  pretty  and  pink  and  smiling. 
She  waved  to  us  and  then,  when  she  saw  our 
equipage,  she  shook  her  own  hands  in  a  man 
ner  indicative  of  delight,  and  not  waiting 
for  me  to  come  and  help  her,  she  ran  down  the 
steps  of  the  car  and  hastened  over  to  us. 

"How  lovely,"  said  she,  kissing  Ethel,  but 
refraining  from  kissing  me.  "Are  we  to  go 
up  in  it?" 

"Hell,  yes,"  said  I,  thinking  of  Pat. 

Ethel  frowned  at  me  and  explained  to 
Cherry  the  bad  influence  under  which  we  had 
been. 

"No,  we're  going  to  get  a  team  to  take  us 
up.  We  only  took  this  because  we  would 
have  missed  the  train  if  we  had  walked. ' ' 

"Don't  do  any  such  thing,"  said  Cherry. 
"It  will  be  perfectly  delicious  to  ride  up  in 
a  cart,  and  in  that  lovely  new-mown  hay. 
Mmh,  how  sweet  it  smells." 

"No  evening  clothes  for  me,"  thought  I, 
and  I  was  right.  Cherry  had  come  up  to 
have  a  good  time  and  to  forget  that  such  a 
place  as  New  York  and  its  exactions  ever 
existed,  and  when  she  had  settled  herself  in 


248       MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

the  hay  with  her  traps  all  about  her  and 
her  trunk  for  her  to  lean  her  back  against, 
we  started  out  for  the  return  trip,  while  Ethel 
told  her  of  our  good  luck  with  the  piano. 

I  will  confess  that  the  inhabitants  of  Eg- 
erton  eyed  us  curiously,  for  Ethel  did  not 
look  like  a  carter,  and  Cherry  was  very  mod 
ish,  and  I  was  not  in  the  costume  of  a  team 
ster.  And  we  had  to  stop  at  the  grocery 
store  to  get  lemons  and  things. 

Altogether  these  were  not  pleasant  mo 
ments,  and  I  was  glad  when  we  turned  our 
backs  on  Egerton  and  began  the  ascent  of  the 
hills. 

"TV  ould  scut"  was  a  good  walker  and 
he  went  up  the  hills  as  if  he  smelt  his  dinner 
ahead  of  him. 

"Think  of  it,"  said  Ethel.  "The  harness 
hasn  't  broken  yet ! ' ' 

"How  perfectly  delicious  to  think  of  it," 
said  Cherry.  "It  really  looks  as  if  each  mo 
ment  would  be  its  next.  How  was  he  ever 
ingenious  enough  to  tie  it  all  together  in  that 
fascinating  way?  He  must  be  a  character. 
I  do  wish  the  horse  would  stop.  So  you  could 
start  him  again." 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  249 

"No,  you  mustn't  wish  that,  for  my  pro 
fanity  is  really  wicked,  while  Pat's  is  as  nat 
ural  to  him  as  leaves  are  to  trees.  It's  part 
of  his  growth.  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do. 
We'll  go  down  and  hear  him  swear  after 
dinner. ' ' 

We  had  come  to  a  level  place  about  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile  in  extent.  The  view  of  the  town 
from  which  we  had  left  was  well  worth  look 
ing  at,  and  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  stopping 
the  horse  that  we  might  see  the  little  city 
perched  on  the  side  of  a  hill  and  surrounded 
by  green  farms  and  wide  expanses  of  wood 
land,  when  "th*  ould  scut"  stopped  of  its 
own  accord,  began  to  tremble  violently  and 
then  broke  into  a  gallop.  So  quickly  did  he 
start  that  we  were  all  pitched  out.  By  great 
good  fortune  not  one  of  us  was  seriously 
hurt,  although  Ethel  scraped  her  wrist,  and 
Cherry  bumped  her  head.  I  escaped  un 
scathed,  and  telling  the  others  to  follow  I 
started  after  the  horse. 

I  soon  gave  up  the  chase,  however,  and  sit 
ting  down  on  a  bank  I  waited  for  the  others. 

"What  shall  we  do?    Go  back  and  get  a 


250      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

team,  or  walk.  It's  a  mile  or  more,"  said  I, 
when  they  came  up. 

"Oh,  it's  perfectly  lovely  to  walk,"  said 
Cherry,  and  as  Ethel  said  she  felt  able,  walk 
we  did. 

We  had  gone  perhaps  two-thirds  of  the 
way,  looking  at  every  turn  for  a  wrecked  cart 
and  a  broken  legged  horse,  when  we  heard  the 
rattle  of  wheels  and  saw  the  horse  coming 
back  after  us,  guided  by  Pat,  himself. 

"Oh,  'tis  the  devil's  own  pity,  sure  it  is," 
said  he  when  he  saw  us.  "Sure,  he  had  the 
blind  staggers.  Why  didn't  ye  bleed  him?" 
said  he. 

"How  could  I  bleed  him  when  he  ran 
away?" 

"Oh,  well,  that's  arl  he  needed,"  said  Pat. 
"He  come  runnin'  in  the  door  yaard,  an'  me 
woman  says,  '  they  're  kilt,'  says  she.  And  I 
whips  out  me  knife  an'  cuts  his  mout',  an' 
he's  arl  right.  Ye'd  oughter  have  bled  him. 
Ah,  it's  a  hell  of  a  bad  job  that  it  happened 
ye.  Were  ye  hurrted  I ' ' 

We  assured  him  that  it  was  all  right,  and 
would  have  continued  on  foot,  but  he  said 
the  horse  had  needed  bleeding  and  that  she 


TH'   OULD   SCUT  251 

was  as  fresh  as  a  colt  now,  and  he  helped  the 
ladies  in,  gave  me  the  reins,  slapped  the  ani 
mal's  flanks  as  before,  with  the  same  com 
mand  as  to  his  destination,  and  we  drove 
home  in  triumph,  leaving  him  to  walk. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

A  MUSICAL  TEAMP. 

WE  wanted  Cherry  to  play,  but  we  did 
not  feel  that  we  ought  to  ask  her  to 
do  it;  she  would  be  tired,  after  her 
journey,  and  piano  playing  to  her  was  no  nov 
elty. 

But  when,  after  dinner,  while  passing 
through  the  sitting  room,  on  our  way  to  the 
veranda  she  ran  a  harmony  enticing  hand 
over  the  keys  as  she  walked  by  the  piano,  I 
could  not  help  saying, 

''Don't  you  feel  like  following  that  up  with 
the  other  hand?" 

She  laughed,  and  sitting  down  at  the  piano 
she  said,  "Why,  certainly.  What  shall  it 
be?" 

"Oh,  we  leave  that  to  you,"  said  Ethel. 
"Play  what  you  like  and  you'll  play  what  we 
like." 

' '  Is  Grieg  getting  old  fashioned  I "  I  asked. 

1 '  I  never  inquired, ' '  said  Cherry.    ' '  I  don 't 

252 


A   MUSICAL    TRAMP  253 

believe  in  fashions  in  arts.  I  liked  Grieg, 
and  Schumann,  and  Beethoven,  and  Mendels 
sohn,  and  Wagner,  and  Johann  Strauss  when 
I  was  a  child,  and  so  I'll  always  like  them. 
And  Grieg  is  always  fresh.  "What  shall  I 
play — 'Anitra's  Dance'?" 

*  *  Yes,  do, ' '  said  Ethel.  ' '  I  never  hear  that 
without  thinking  of  Seidl  and  Brighton  Beach 
and  the  throngs  of  doting  Brooklyn  women 
who  didn't  go  to  hear  the  music,  but  to  see 
Seidl.  But  it  was  beautiful  music — when 
the  roar  of  the  surf  didn't  drown  it.'* 

Cherry  found  the  piano  stool  at  just  the 
right  height,  and  without  any  airs  or  graces 
beyond  those  which  were  part  of  her  endow 
ment,  she  started  in  to  play.  The  windows 
were  open  and  the  music  and  the  moonlight, 
and  the  hum  of  the  insects,  and  the  landscape 
became  indissolubly  blended,  and  I  blessed 
Minerva  once  more  for  the  truly  "Puss-in- 
boots"  service  she  had  rendered  to  the  "Mar 
quis  of  Carabas." 

The  dance  ended,  Cherry  turned  around  on 
the  piano  stool  and  said, 

"Minerva  chose  a  very  nice  piano." 

There  was  a  sound  of  steps  on  the  porch 


254      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  the  shadow  of  a  man  fell  across  the 
square  hallway.  There  was  also  a  subdued 
rap  on  the  door  post. 

I  stepped  to  the  door  and  found  a  tramp 
standing  there.  He  was  the  typical  tramp 
of  the  comic  papers ;  unshaven,  dusty,  blear- 
eyed,  unkempt,  stoop  shouldered,  ragged,  un 
prepossessing. 

"What  do  you  wish?"  said  I,  irritated  at 
the  interruption. 

He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"I'd  like  a  glass  of  milk,"  said  he,  huskily. 

"Well,  go  around  to  the  back  door  and  the 
girl  will  give  you  one.  Don't  you  want  some 
meat!" 

"Thanks;  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  he, 
wiping  his  mouth  as  if  my  invitation  had 
been  a  bibulous  one. 

He  went  around,  and  I  returned  to  the  sit 
ting  room,  where  Cherry  had  started  another 
piece. 

"Do  you  have  many  tramps?"  asked  she 
when  she  had  finished. 

"Not  many.  They  are  too  lazy  to  climb 
the  hills.  I  think  he  is  only  the  third  one 


A  MUSICAL   TRAMP  255 

this  summer.  He  was  awful  looking.  Did 
you  see  him?" 

' '  No, ' '  said  Ethel  and  Cherry  together. 

' '  What  a  life !  Probably  not  a  wish  in  the 
world  but  for  food  and  drink." 

My  moralizing  was  cut  short  by  the  return 
of  the  tramp.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  a 
sandwich  and  with  his  left  he  was  wiping  milk 
from  his  moustache. 

As  he  passed  the  window  he  beckoned  to 
me,  who  was  sitting  by  it. 

I  supposed  that  he  wanted  money,  and  went 
out. 

* '  Say,  boss, ' '  said  he,  " I'm  pretty  far  gone, 
but  you  didn't  set  the  dog  on  me,  and  I  want 
you  to  ask  that  young  lady  in  there  a  favour." 

''What  is  it?" 

'  'Ask  her  to  play  the  'Dance  of  the  Dwarfs' 
in  the  same  suite — 'Peer  Gint.'  " 

"Sit  down,"  said  I,  and  felt  as  if  I  needed 
a  seat  myself. 

The  oafish  tramp  sat  down  on  the  porch 
seat,  and  I  went  in  and  told  Cherry  what  the 
tramp  would  like  to  hear. 

Surprise  showed  in  her  face,  but  quite  as 


256      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

a  matter  of  course  she  went  to  the  piano  and 
began  the  lumbering,  humourous  dance. 

In  the  middle  of  it  I  could  hear  the  tramp 
laughing  gutturally,  and  when  she  had  fin 
ished  it  he  clapped  his  hands  and  said, 

"Beg  pardon,  but  I'm  much  obliged.  That's 
one  of  the  funniest  pieces  of  music  that  was 
ever  composed.  Say,  boss,  will  you  step  out 
a  minute." 

I  stepped  out.  He  had  risen  and  was  evi 
dently  going. 

"Boss,  I  used  to  be  one  of  the  second 
violins  in  Seidl's  orchestra,  but — well, — 
that's  how.  I  was  go'n'  by  here,  for  I  had 
had  som'n'  to  eat  at  the  last  house,  but  when 
I  heard  'Anitra's  Dance,'  gee!  it  brought 
back  the  good  old  days  when  I  was  doing  the 
only  thing  I  ever  cared  for,  fiddling;  and  I 
thought  I'd  ask  for  some  more,  and  then  I 
didn't  dare  until  I'd  been  around  to  the  kitch 
en  and  braced  up.  Thank  the  young  lady 
for  me." 

He  shuffled  out  to  the  road. 

"You  wronged  him,  Philip,"  said  Ethel 
when  I  returned.  "Think  of  his  knowing 
'PeerGint'" 


A  MUSICAL   TRAMP  257 

Cherry  wiped  her  eyes  and  broke  into  a 
chorus  from  "lolanthe." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WE  MAKE  HAY. 

SUNDAY  it  rained  until  late  in  the  after 
noon,  but  at  that  time  a  westerly  wind 
sprang  up  which  rapidly  dried  things, 
and  enabled  us  to  go  out  for  a  sunset  walk. 

"This  is  a  place  in  which  to  do  nothing 
but  be  happy,"  said  Cherry  to  Ethel  as  we 
stood  on  top  of  our  favorite  rock  and  looked 
up  the  valley  for  miles  and  miles,  watching 
belated  and  feathery  clouds  fly  across  it,  try 
ing  to  catch  up  with  the  rain  clouds  that  had 
all  day  long  swept  by. 

"That's  what  I  felt  when  I  first  came  up," 
said  Ethel,  "but  I'm  beginning  to  feel  so 
strong  now  that  Philip  has  sent  for  a  lawn 
tennis  set,  and  James  is  going  to  mark  a 
court,  and  you  and  I  can  play  against  Phil 
ip." 

"Yes,  and  while  we're  waiting  for  it  to 
come,"  said  I,  "we'll  have  to  pitch  in  and 

258 


WE   MAKE   HAY  259 

give  our  next-door  neighbour  a  spell  of  work 
at  hay-making." 

" What's  a  spell  of  work?"  asked  Cherry. 

"Why,  it's  falling  to,  and  helping  your 
neighbour  this  week,  and  next  week  he  falls 
to,  and  helps  you." 

"Oh,  how  delicious.  And  do  you  know 
how  to  make  hay?" 

"Anyone  can  learn  how  in  a  single  morn 
ing.  First  you  cut  it,  then  you  toss  it,  and 
then  you  gather  it.  It's  as  easy  as  lying." 

"I'm  afraid  I'll  never  learn  it,"  said 
Cherry  demurely. 

"I  was  reading  somewhere,"  said  I,  "that 
in  Germany,  where  they  learn  to  be  econom 
ical  from  the  beginning,  the  navy  is  sup 
ported — or  else  it's  the  army  is  supported 
entirely  on  the  hay  that  Americans  would 
leave  in  the  corners  and  the  by-ways.  I've 
no  doubt  that  the  Emperor  William  com 
mands  his  people  in  a  heaven-sent  message 
to  get  out  their  nail  scissors  and  cut  the  little 
blades  in  the  remote  corners  that  nothing  be 
lost,  and  as  'mony  a  mickle  maks  a  muckle/ 
he  pays  for  his  army  out  of  the  hay  crop  that 
would  become  withered  grass  with  us.  Now 


260      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

to-morrow,  when  we  go  over  to  help  the 
Windham's,  you  must  remember  to  account 
each  blade  of  grass  as  equal  in  value  to  any 
other  blade." 

"What  will  Mr.  Windham  say  to  women 
working?" 

"Well,  the  idea!  Ethel.  Did  any  Yankee 
farmer  ever  object  to  women  working?  And 
isn't  it  better  to  work  out-of-doors  than  to 
work  indoors?  I'd  rather  you  lifted  forkfuls 
of  hay  than  have  you  lift  heavy  mattresses 
and  furniture  and  things,  and  it's  better  to 
rake  hay  than  to  sweep  floors." 

"When  Philip  gets  on  a  topic  like  that, 
the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  just  let  him  talk 
it  out,"  said  Ethel.  "Don't  say  a  word,  and 
he'll  burn  up  for  lack  of  fuel." 

"Which  is  a  logical  remark,"  said  I. 

"But  it  will  be  too  perfectly  delightful  to 
go  out  like  Boaz  and  glean." 

"You  may  possibly  mean  Ruth,"  said  I. 

"I  do.  I  always  mix  them  up.  Boaz  seems 
like  a  woman's  name.  Do  you  think  it  will 
rain  to-morrow?" 

"To-morrow,"  said  I,  with  a  glance  at  the 
west  where  the  sun,  a  red  ball,  was  disap- 


WE    MAKE    HAY  261 

pearing  in  a  cloudless  sky,  "will  be  a  good 
hay  day." 

And  to-morrow  was.  We  rose  and  break 
fasted  early  and  found  when  we  looked  at 
the  thermometer  that  it  was  already  78,  but 
there  was  a  west  wind  blowing  to  temper  the 
heat. 

"They're  already  at  work,  aren't  they?" 
said  Cherry  as  we  started  out,  the  women 
clad  in  walking  skirts  and  shirt-waists  and 
broad-brimmed  hats,  and  I  bare  headed  and 
outing  shirted. 

"My  dear  child,  they  have  been  at  work 
for  the  last  four  hours." 

I  had  told  Windham  what  to  expect,  and 
when  he  saw  us  coming  he  said,  "That's 
right.  The  more  the  merrier.  You'll  find 
rakes  there  by  the  fence." 

I  told  him  that  I  would  mow  a  little,  as  I 
had  done  it  when  a  boy. 

"Good  work,"  said  he,  and  let  me  take  his 
own  scythe  while  he  drove  a  loaded  wagon 
home. 

I  started  in  at  a  field  that  they  had  not 
intended  to  attack  until  after  lunch,  but 
Windham  said  it  would  make  no  difference. 


Ethel  and  Cherry  raked  as  if  they  were 
sweeping,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  their  money 
value  could  have  been  represented  by  any 
undue  use  of  figures.  I  vaulted  the  fence  and 
began  my  fell  work,  taking  care  to  keep  close 
to  the  edge  and  demolishing  every  last  blade 
of  grass.  I  also  found  that  my  method  of 
attack  spared  a  little  mouthful  of  grass  at 
each  stroke,  and  when  I  had  gone  down  the 
length  of  the  field  and  had  stuck  the  point 
of  the  scythe  in  the  earth  twice,  and  had  cut 
the  end  off  of  a  stone,  and  had  lunged  into 
the  fence,  I  determined  to  rest  a  minute  and 
try  to  recall  the  proper  way  in  which  to  hold 
the  scythe. 

The  way  back  was  easier,  as  I  was  now 
one  remove  from  the  fence.  I  poised  the 
scythe  in  such  a  manner  that  I  reaped  what 
I  had  before  spared,  but  found,  upon  look 
ing  back  over  the  path  by  which  I  had  come, 
that  I  had  spared  a  few  inches  in  each  swathe. 
I  seemed  to  be  unable  to  make  a  long,  clean 
sweep.  And  my  back  felt  like  breaking  and 
I  was  sweating  in  a  manner  unbecoming  a 
gentleman. 

That,  however,  did  not  worry  me  at  all, 


WE   MAKE   HAY  263 

as  I  reflected  that  on  my  father's  side  I  was 
the  first  gentleman  that  had  appeared  in  Am 
erica  for  nine  generations — all  the  rest  had 
been  of  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  nation. 

When  people  talk  about  pride  of  ancestry 
in  my  hearing,  and  their  pride  of  ancestry  is 
based  on  the  fact  that  they  have  had  fine 
blood  in  their  veins  for  generations,  I  inflate 
my  chest  and  tell  them  about  my  maternal 
ancestors,  the  Durbans.  Not  a  man  did  a 
stroke  of  work  for  eight  generations,  and  they 
lived  in  cities  and  looked  down  on  country 
folk  in  a  manner  that  was  as  aristocratic 
as  could  be.  When  my  mother  married  my 
father,  who  had  been  born  and  bred  a  coun 
try  boy,  all  the  Durbans  held  up  their  hands 
in  holy  horror  and  said  that  my  mother  would 
never  draw  a  happy  breath  again. 

Yet  she  went  on  drawing  one  happy  breath 
after  another,  until  she  died,  and  my  father 
knew  his  first  unhappiness  when  she  depart 
ed. 

But  when  I  meet  people  who  laugh  at  lin 
eage  and  genealogy,  I  do  not  speak  of  the 
Durbans  at  all.  I  say,  "Yes,  pride  of  lin 
eage  is  foolish.  The  Vernons  have  been  plain 


264      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

country  folk  ever  since  they  came  over  in 
1639,  and  not  one  of  them  was  ever  celebrated 
for  anything — not  even  for  his  wickedness. 
They've  just  been  Yankee  countrymen,  and 
so,  of  course,  pride  of  ancestry  is  a  foolish 
thing." 

Whenever  you  hear  a  man  laughing  at 
pride  of  ancestry,  you  may  be  sure  that  his 
ancestors  were  no  better  than  my  fathers 
were.  But  if  he  is  always  talking  about  his 
ancestry,  depend  upon  it,  he  has  something 
back  of  him  as  good  as  the  Durbans,  and  his 
forbears  looked  down  on  farmers. 

We  worked  until  the  whistles  at  Egerton 
blew  for  noon,  and  I  had  by  that  time  devas 
tated  quite  a  patch  of  grass. 

Windham  had  been  busy  in  other  places 
all  the  morning,  and  when  he  came  to  look  at 
what  I  had  done  he  made  no  reference  to  the 
thrift  of  the  Germans.  He  looked  at  the  reg 
ular  patches  of  spared  blades  that  were  hold 
ing  their  heads  high  amidst  the  blades  that 
had  fallen  so  bravely,  and  said, 

"How  would  you  like  to  drive  the  rake  this 
afternoon?" 


WE   MAKE   HAY  265 

I  blushed  and  said  that  I  believed  that 
would  be  a  change  of  work. 

I  did  not  laugh  at  the  somewhat  amateur 
raking  of  Ethel  and  Cherry.  Haymaking  is 
an  art,  and  beginners  learn  better  by  encour 
agement  than  by  ridicule. 

We  had  brought  our  lunch,  and  we  pic 
nicked  under  the  spreading  branches  of  an 
oak,  and  found  that  we  were  feeling  "pretty 
good.'*  And  we  had  six  red  arms  to  our 
credit — four  of  them  pretty. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"DING  DONG  BELL." 

THE  week  passed  so  quickly,  with  our 
hay-making  and  our  getting  over  our 
hay-making  and  our  pleasant  walks — 
we  did  not  attempt  to  drive  out  again  behind 
"th'  ould  scut", — and  the  attractive  meals 
that  Minerva  cooked  and  the  pleasant  music 
that   Cherry  found  within  the   piano,   that 
when  Friday  came,  and  Cherry  asked  me  if 
I  had  found  a  team  to  carry  her  down,  Ethel 
said, 

"It's  all  nonsense,  your  thinking  of  going 
back.  Philip,  she  says  that  she  hasn't  made 
any  plans  at  all,  beyond  thinking  of  going  to 
Bar  Harbor  in  September  to  visit  her  aunt. ' ' 

"Well,  then,  Cherry,  it  will  be  downright 
unkind  in  you  to  ask  me  to  hunt  up  a  team 
yet  awhile.  Just  stay  on  until  the  haying 
season  is  over,  and  we  can  go  down  behind  a 
real  horse." 

"Well,  of  course  I'm  having  a  perfectly 

266 


"DING   DONG   BELL"  267 

delicious  time,"  said  Cherry,  putting  her 
arms  around  Ethel's  shoulders  affectionately, 
"and  I'd  much  rather  stay  than  go,  but  it 
seems  like — " 

"It  doesn't  seem  like  anything  at  all,"  said 
Ethel,  "except  that  we  want  you  to  stay. 
And,  besides,  we  want  you  to  meet  Ellery 
Sibthorp." 

"Ellery  Sibthorp,"  said  Cherry  with  a 
laugh.  "Is  that  his  real  name?" 

"That's  his  real  name,  the  one  he  writes 
under,  and  Philip  asked  me  to  ask  him  up. 
He's  all  alone  in  the  world  and  is  struggling 
to  make  a  name  for  himself." 

"Mercy,  I  should  think  he  had  one  ready 
made.  Ellery  Sibthorp.  It's  as  valuable  as 
Kudyard  Kipling." 

"Wait  till  you  see  him,"  said  I.  "He's, 
poor  as  a  church  mouse  and  as  clean  as  a 
whistle,  and  as  good  as  gold." 

"Oh,  I'm  simply  dying  to  see  him.  When 
does  he  come?  And  how  will  you  get  him 
up?" 

"Egerton  livery,  this  time.  And  he's  com 
ing  Monday.  So  you  see,  if  you  were  to  go 
to-morrow,  you  wouldn't  see  him." 


268       MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

* '  Tell  me  something  about  him.  Of  course 
I'll  stay.  How  old  is  he?  Is  he  married?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  guess  he's  about  twenty-eight, 
and  he's  one  of  the  great  unrecognized. 
Good,  but  different,  so  he's  got  to  wait." 

"Hasn't  he  had  anything  accepted?" 

* '  Oh,  a  few  things,  but  not  enough  to  make 
him  hopeless  of  success." 

"Oh,  is  he  that  type?" 

' '  A  little.  If  he  finally  takes  the  world  by 
storm,  he  won't  be  among  those  who  are  sur 
prised." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  him?" 

"  I  ?  Oh,  I  think  he 's  young  and  can  afford 
to  wait,  but  I  guess  he's  one  of  the  real  ones. 
It  won't  do  him  any  harm  to  wait." 

"That  always  sounds  so  merciless,"  said 
Ethel.  She  and  Cherry  were  sitting  on  a  set 
tee  under  a  maple.  She  turned  to  her  friend. 
"Half  the  time  he  lives  on  next  to  nothing, 
and  yet  Philip  says  that  it  will  do  him  no 
harm  to  wait.  He  may  starve  before  the 
world  finds  him  out." 

"Even  if  he  does,  he'll  be  the  happier  in 
the  world  to  come,"  said  I.  "But  don't  look 
for  a  sad-eyed,  posing,  long-haired,  hollow- 


"DING   DONG   BELL"  269 

cheeked  poet.  Sibthorp  sticks  to  prose,  and 
lie  has  a  sense  of  humour  that  keeps  him 
sane  and  satisfied  and  hopeful.  I  really 
think  that  if  he  were  to  be  tremendously  suc 
cessful  now  that  life  would  lose  something  of 
its  savour.  He  feels  in  a  vague  way  that  he 
belongs  to  the  line  of  those  who  have  had  to 
toil  and  wait  before  recognition  came,  and 
the  thought  is  not  distasteful." 

"Will  he  read  to  us,  or  will  he  be  like  you, 
and  never  read  anything  of  his  own?" 

"Oh,  he'll  read,  if  you  press  him — " 

Just  then  we  heard  moans  that  we  had  sup 
posed  were  never  to  be  heard  again,  and 
Minerva  came  running  out  of  the  house. 

"Oh,  Mist.  Vernon,  Miss  Pussy  has  fell 
down  the  well." 

' '  Not  really  ? ' '  said  Ethel,  jumping  up  from 
the  settee.  "Oh,  Philip,  you  must  get  her 
out  at  once.  We  never  can  drink  the  water 
again. ' ' 

"Are  you  sure  she's  there,  Minerva?" 

' '  'Deed  I  am.  I  had  the  top  off  to  fix  that 
chain  that  got  unhooked  agin,  an*  she  must 
have  jumped  up  awn  the  edge  and  then  fell 
in.  She'll  be  drowned,  sure." 


270      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"Where's  James!"  said  I,  hurrying 
through  the  house. 

"He's  gone  home." 

"Well,  you  go  get  him.  I'll  fish  for  the 
cat,  but  he'd  be  more  likely  to  get  her  if  he 
went  down.  Hurry ! ' ' 

Our  drinking  water  was  pumped  out  of  the 
well,  that  was  under  the  kitchen,  by  means  of 
an  endless  chain  furnished  with  rubber  buck 
ets,  and  while  the  well  was  some  thirty  feet 
deep,  it  would  not  be  much  of  a  job  for  a  man 
used  to  it  to  go  down  and  rescue  the  cat,  sup 
posing  that  its  nine  lives  held  out  until  he 
came.  I  did  not  think  of  going  down,  be 
cause  I  cannot  swim,  and  a  single  false  step 
would  have  meant  drowning  for  me,  and  the 
husband  who  throws  away  his  life  for  a  cat 
has  a  false  sense  of  values. 

Minerva  rushed  out  to  within  bawling  dis 
tance  of  James,  and  I  lighted  a  candle  and 
lowered  it  by  means  of  a  clothes  line  for  about 
ten  feet. 

"I  see  her!  She's  swimming!"  I  exclaimed, 
and  then  the  candle  went  out  and  I  drew  it 
up. 

I  then  tied  an  eight-quart  pail  on  the  line 


"DING   DONG  BELL'1  271 

and  lowered  that,  and  when  I  felt  it  hitting 
water  I  called  to  the  cat  reassuringly,  hoping 
that  it  would  have  sense  enough  to  get  inside 
of  the  pail.  I  pulled  and  felt  the  weight  of 
the  cat. 

"Fve  got  her,"  said  I  to  Ethel  and  Cherry, 
who  stood,  interested  spectators,  at  the  kitch 
en  door. 

"Oh,  how  fortunate,"  said  Ethel. 

"Yes,  Minerva  needn't  have  called  James. 
My,  the  cat  must  be  water  logged.  She's 
heavy. ' ' 

I  pulled  hand  over  hand,  and  at  last  the 
pail  was  near  enough  for  me  to  reach  down 
and  taking  it's  bail,  pull  it  over  the  edge. 

It  was  full  to  overflowing — with  water. 

"Where's  the  cat?"  said  Ethel  in  astonish 
ment. 

"Cat's  gone  back." 

I  lowered  the  bucket  again,  although  I  felt 
that  it  was  time  thrown  away.  While  I  was 
trying  to  attract  Miss  Pussy's  attention 
Cherry,  looking  out  into  the  moonlight,  said, 

"Here  comes  James." 

And  a  minute  later  he  came  in.  He  had 
not  quite  reached  home  when  he  heard  Mi- 


272      MINERVA'S  MANOEUVRES 

nerva's  agonized  calls,  and  came  in  obedience 
to  them. 

"Think  you  can  get  her,  James?"  said  I. 

"I  guess  so.  Light  the  lantern,  Minerva," 
said  he,  and  Minerva  sprang  to  the  cellar 
stairs  and  brought  out  a  lantern  which  she 
lighted  promptly. 

"Think  she's  drowned,  James?" 

"No,  sir,  cats  hate  water,  but  they  can 
swim  all  right." 

He  stepped  into  the  woodshed  and  came 
back  in  a  minute  with  a  coil  of  new  clothes 
line.  This  he  doubled  and  then  tied  it  around 
his  waist,  asking  me  to  hold  on  to  the  end 
of  it. 

The  lantern  he  fastened  to  the  other  rope 's 
end. 

1 ' Keep  yourself  braced, ' '  said  he.  "I  wont 
fall,  for  I've  often  been  down  there  to  clean  it, 
but  if  I  do,  you  can  pull  me  up. ' ' 

* l  Try  not  to  go,  James, ' '  said  I,  looking  at 
his  two  hundred  pounds,  and  at  the  slender 
rope. 

We  wrenched  off  the  case  of  the  pump,  and 
stepping  down  he  was  lost  to  sight  almost  im 
mediately. 


"DING   DONG   BELL"  273 

I  lowered  the  lantern  and  he  made  his  way 
to  the  water. 

"Do  you  suppose  the  cat  slipped!"  I  asked 
Minerva. 

"I  reckon  she  was  thirsty." 

"Well,  she  won't  be  thirsty  when  she  comes 
out.  What  do  you  find,  James?" 

"A  scrubbing  brush." 

"Ooh,"  said  Ethel,  and  "Ugh,"  said  Cher 
ry,  but  Minerva  said, 

'  *  Lawdy,  I  wondered  what  I  had  done  with, 
that." 

"Where's  the  cat,  James?" 

"I'm  afraid  she's  sunk.  She  ain't  here. 
That's  certain." 

' l  That 's  too  bad.     Coming  up  f " 

"Yes,  sir.  No  use  looking  any  more.  She's 
gone  down." 

I  began  to  pull  in  the  rope,  and  James  be 
gan  to  ascend.  Suddenly  there  was  a  splash 
and  simultaneously  I  was  pulled  forward,  and 
almost  went  into  the  well  myself. 

Minerva  shrieked  and  so  did  Ethel  and 
Cherry,  but  James's  voice  rose  assuringly. 

"All  right.  Missed  my  footing.  My,  but 
this  water's  cold." 


274      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

We  could  hear  him  spluttering. 

"Here,  lend  a  hand,  all  of  you,  at  this 
rope,"  said  I,  and  we  all  began  to  pull. 

Of  course  it  meant  that  next  day  James 
would  have  to  pump  the  well  dry  and  get  the 
poor  little  body  of  the  poor  little  cat.  What 
a  lot  of  excitement  and  suspense  and  labour 
over  one  smallish  cat.  Indeed,  what  a  risk  of 
life,  for  James  might  easily  have  hit  his  head 
when  he  fell. 

We  hung  back  on  the  rope  like  sailors,  and 
James  climbed  higher  and  higher,  and  at  last 
his  black  hand  came  up  and  grasped  the  edge 
of  the  curb,  and  a  moment  later,  dripping  and 
shivering,  he  stood  upon  the  floor. 

And  then  we  heard  the  voice  of  a  cat.  T 
rushed  to  the  well  and  looked  in,  but  the 
sounds  did  not  come  from  there.  They  came 
from  out  of  doors. 

"That  sounds  like  her,"  said  James. 

"It's  her  ghost,"  said  Minerva.  "She's 
comin'  to  ha'nt  me." 

Illogically  enough  we  all  pictured  the  cat 
standing  outside  of  the  door  dripping  water. 

I  opened  the  door  and  in  walked  Miss 


"DING   BONG   BELL"  275 

Pussy,  as  dry  as  a  bone,  and  began  to  rub 
against  Minerva's  skirts. 

"Why,  she's  dry,"  said  Ethel. 

Minerva  burst  out  laughing.  * '  My,  I  clean 
forgot.  I  shut  her  out  doors  before  I  began 
moppin'." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ELIGIBLE. 

WE  were  sitting  at  dinner  Monday  night, 
all  of  us  wondering  why  Ellery  Sib- 
thorp  had  not  come.  "We  had  heard 
the  whistle  of  the  train  on  which  he  was  to 
have  come,  and  we  had  allowed  more  than 
time  for  the  livery  team  to  come  up,  hut  it 
was  now  seven,  and  we  had  given  him  up. 

"I'm  afraid  he  missed  the  train  in  New 
York.  I  wish  I'd  walked  down  to  the  sta 
tion." 

"Will  you  please  tell  me,"  said  Ethel, 
"how  your  going  down  to  Egerton  would 
have  prevented  his  missing  the  train  in  New 
York?" 

"Well,  I  was  thinking  that  perhaps  he 
missed  the  hackman  at  Egerton." 

"It's  too  perfectly  awful  of  him,"  said 
Cherry,  "seeing  that  I  stayed  over  just  to 
meet  him. ' ' 

276 


ELIGIBLE  277 

"The  disappointment  will  be  his  when  he 
sees  you,"  said  I,  and  at  this  both  of  them 
asked  me  what  was  the  matter  with  my  wits. 

"Have  you  had  an  infusion  of  Irish 
blood?  "asked  Ethel. 

"I'm  thinking  of  how  inhospitable  I  was 
not  to  go  down  to  the  train. ' ' 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  kitchen  door,  and 
Minerva,  who  had  been  removing  the  soup 
plates,  went  out  to  open  it. 

A  light-keyed,  pleasant  voice  said  to  her, 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  the  Vernons 
live?" 

"Right  here,  sir.     Come  in  won't  yer?" 

In  through  the  kitchen  came  a  light  step, 
following  Minerva's  heavy  one,  and  as  she 
opened  the  door  into  the  dining  room  she 
said  to  us  informally. 

"I  guess  this  is  the  man  you  was  lookin' 
for." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  you  had  company," 
said  Sibthorp,  setting  down  his  grip  and  re 
moving,  or  trying  to  remove  his  hat.  His 
hand  hit  it  and  it  fell  to  the  floor,  and  when 
he  stooped  to  pick  it  up  he  felt  flustered,  and 


put  it  on  again,  his  face  turning  the  colour  of 
a  peony. 

Ethel  rose  from  her  seat  and  said, 

"Mr.  Sibthorp,  you  surely  haven't  walked 
up  ?  May  I  present  you  to  Miss  Paxton  ? ' ' 

"Certainly,"  said  the  poor  fellow.  "That 
is,  I  did,  and  I'm  happy  to  meet  everybody." 

He  had  taken  off  his  hat  again,  and  I  now 
found  his  hand  and  gave  it  a  hearty  shake. 

"This  is  your  house  for  the  time  being, 
Ellery,  old  man,"  said  I,  "and  Miss  Paxton 
is  one  of  the  family,  also.  We  call  her  Cher 
ry,  but  it  isn't  obligatory.  Now  hang  your 
hat  up  in  the  hall,  and  I'll  show  you  where 
you  can  find  a  pitcher  and  basin,  and  no 
body's  the  least  bit  stiff  in  this  house,  so  you 
can  feel  as  happy  as  if  you  were  by  your 
self." 

I  led  him  out  of  the  room,  and  by  the  time 
he  had  explained  how  he  had  not  seen  any 
hack,  and  had  come  up  by  a  short-cut  that  a 
farmer  told  him  about,  he  was  feeling  more 
in  command  of  himself.  It  is  really  a  tax  on 
a  man's  self  possession  to  be  shown  through 
the  kitchen  and  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
strange  and  exceedingly  pretty  young  woman, 


ELIGIBLE  279 

and  I  would  not  care  to  have  anyone  think 
that  Sibthorp  was  one  of  those  hopelessly 
diffident  fellows,  whose  every  contact  with 
their  fellow  beings  is  agony. 

When  he  came  back  to  the  table  he  went 
over  and  shook  hands  with  Ethel,  and  sat 
down  in  his  seat  quite  himself. 

He  was  a  good  looking  fellow,  reminding 
one  a  little  of  the  pictures  of  Eobert  Schu 
mann.  His  eyes  were  deep-set  and  his  lips 
full,  and  if  he  had  been  born  twenty  years 
earlier  his  hair  would  have  been  long.  The 
spirit  of  the  times  is  against  excessive  hair. 

The  cow  boy  had  it  and  stuck  to  it  and — 
the  cow  boy  is  going.  Whether  artists  and 
literary  men  pondered  on  the  fate  of  the  cow 
boy,  and  in  order  to  save  themselves,  cut  their 
hair,  or  not,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say,  but 
it  is  a  fact  that  if  all  the  hair  that  is  not 
in  these  United  States  were  to  be  placed  end 
to  end  it  would  encircle  the  earth  time  and 
time  again — which  beautiful  thought  I  dedi 
cate  to  the  statisticians. 

"What  bracing  air  you  have  up  here,"  said 
Sibthorp.  "Why,  I  came  up  the  hills  like  a 
streak,  and  I  was  getting  so  that  a  short  walk 


280      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

in  tKe  city  tired  me.    Isn't  it  a  great  place?" 

"  You  're  inoculated  soon,"  said  Cherry. 
"There's  something  in  the  spirit  of  this  place 
that  makes  people  stay  on  and  on.  I  was 
only  invited  for  a  week,  and  now  they  can't 
get  me  to  go.  It'll  be  the  same  with  you." 

"Ellery,"  said  I,  "the  motto  of  this  place 
is  going  to  be  'All  hope  (of  getting  away) 
abandon  ye  who  enter  here. '  You  see,  Ethel 
and  I  were  getting  mortally  tired  of  our 
honeymoon,  which  had  lasted  four  years,  and 
so  we  began  to  invite  people  up  here  to  re 
lieve  our  ennui." 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  to  say 
that?"  said  Cherry;  but  Ethel  only  laughed. 

"It's  a  fact.  At  first  Minerva  (she's  the 
lady  that  ushered'you  in)  contributed  daily  to 
our  amusement  and  excitement,  but  now  she 's 
getting  to  be  semi-occasional,  and  so  we're 
thinking  of  our  friends  who  don't  hate  the, 
country,  and  you  may  be  in  quite  a  congested 
community  before  you  have  a  chance  to  go. 
You  play  tennis,  don't  you?" 

"I  used  to  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that.  We're  all  boys  and 
girls  up  here.  We  expect  to  set  up  a  court 


ELIGIBLE  281 

to-morrow  and  there'll  be  four  of  us  to  play." 

''Have  you  written  much  lately?"  asked 
Ethel. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  extra  animation 
that  came  into  Sibthorp's  face  at  her  ques 
tion.  Tennis  had  left  him  cold,  but  the  men 
tion  of  the  works  of  Sibthorp  roused  him. 

It  is  the  fashion  to  laugh  at  this  tendency 
in  writers,  but  I  have  a  dim  suspicion  that  the 
engineer  is  roused  to  greater  interest  at  men 
tion  of  some  engineering  problem  he  has 
solved,  than  he  is  at  the  ordinary  topics  of 
the  day,  and  so  it  is  with  all. 

"Had  something  accepted  last  week,"  said 
he.  "It  had  been  everywhere,  and  if  it  had 
come  back  again,  I  would  have  burned  it  up, 
but  the  Atlantic  took  it,  and  the  only  reason 
I  didn't  send  there  at  first  was  because  I 
thought  it  wasn't  good  enough." 

"How  proud  we  must  be." 

"Well,  it's  funny,  but  as  soon  as  the  At 
lantic  took  it,  I  went  and  got  my  carbon  copy 
and  read  it,  and  I  thought  it  was  pretty  good, 
and  when  it  had  come  back  time  before,  I  had 
read  it,  and  thought  it  was  rotten. ' ' 

"And  when  it's  printed,  there'll   be  as 


282      MINERVA'S  MANCEHVBES 

many  opinions  of  it  as  it  has  readers.  But 
you're  progressing  if  the  Atlantic  takes  you 
up.  Doesn't  it  make  you  feel  sorry  to  see 
the  goal?" 

"No,  sir.  Now  I  won't  be  happy  until  I've 
written  a  serial  for  the  Atlantic,  or  some  one 
of  the  big  magazines." 

1  i  Is  that  the  way  it  works  ? ' '  laughed  Cher 
ry.  "The  more  one  gets,  the  more  one 
wants?" 

"That's  the  way  ambition  is  built  up," 
said  I,  ' '  acceptance  by  acceptance. ' ' 

"What  a  place  to  work  in  this  must  be," 
said  Sibthorp,  as  he  allowed  Ethel  to  replen 
ish  his  plate. 

Cherry  laughed.  "Yes,  you  ought  to  see 
the  way  Mr.  Vernon  works.  !A  poem  in  the 
morning,  a  short  story  in  the  afternoon,  and 
an  essay  in  the  evening." 

Sibthorp  turned  his  glowing  eyes  on  me. 
"Good  boy.  Are  you  really  working?" 

"Miss  Paxton  sees  fit  to  jest,"  said  I. 
"I'm  afraid  I  haven't  done  as  much  as  I 
might. ' ' 

"You  couldn't  do  less,  Philip,  seeing  you 


ELIGIBLE  283 

haven't  done  a  thing  since  you  came  up," 
said  Ethel. 

"All  the  better  for  winter.  But  don't  let 
my  example  influence  you,  Sibthorp.  I  '11  turn 
you  loose  with  pens  and  paper,  or  my  type 
writer,  and  you  can  enrich  the  literature  of 
this  country  every  minute,  if  you  want  to. 
Only,  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  give  lit- 
erachure  the  go  by,  and  stay  out  doors  for 
a  week  or  so." 

"I'll  work  out  doors,  but  I  must  work," 
said  he,  his  eyes  shining. 

Ethel  laughed.  l  i  A  night  up  here  will  cure 
that.  You'll  be  content  to  loll  by  to-mor 
row.  ' ' 

' '  Why,  I  wrote  on  the  way  up, ' '  said  he. 

"Really!"  said  Cherry.  "What  did  you 
do  with  it  ?  Hand  it  to  the  conductor  by  mis 
take,  for  your  ticket?"  she  added  saucily. 

1 1  No,  but  do  you  know,  whenever  I  ride  any 
distance,  I  feel  that  I  must  write  something 
because  money  spent  on  tickets  seems  money 
thrown  away." 

1 1  Dear  me,  is  it  a  poet  speaking  or  a  thrifty 
Yankee." 

Cherry  spoke  to  him  as  if  she  had  known 


284      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

him  all  her  life.  I  did  not  know  but  he  would 
take  offence,  but  he  was  looking  at  her  when 
she  spoke,  and  that  made  all  the  difference  in 
the  world.  Ethel  said  one  day  that  Cherry's 
eyes  apologised  for  whatever  daring  might 
be  in  her  words. 

"I'm  very  thrifty.  I  have  need  to  be," 
said  Sibthorp  earnestly,  and  as  I  knew  that 
his  income  for  the  preceding  year  had  been 
something  in  the  neighbourhood  of  four  hun 
dred  dollars,  I  flashed  a  warning  signal  to 
Cherry,  and  asked  him  to  do  the  thing  that 
would  make  him  the  happiest. 

"After  dinner  suppose  you  read  us  the 
stuff  you've  been  writing." 

*  *  How  disrespectful, ' '  said  Cherry. 
"Stuff!" 

"Why,  if  it  wouldn't  bore  you?"  said  he, 
smiling  at  Cherry. 

* '  Lovely !  Perfectly  delicious ! ' '  said  Cher 
ry,  and  Ethel  said, 

"It'll  make  me  think  I'm  living  in  a  lit 
erary  atmosphere  once  more.  Since  Philip 
won  that  prize,  he's  simply  vegetated.  I 
don't  like  it  a  bit.  "What's  your  story 
about?" 


ELIGIBLE  285 

"It's  a  sort  of  fable.  I  call  it  the  "Two 
Altruists." 

We  had  coffee  served  out  under  the  maple, 
and  while  we  were  drinking  it  Sibthorp,  after 
apologising  for  not  being  a  better  reader,  be 
gan  it. 

"Once  upon  a  time— 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  I,  "Here  comes  Mi 
nerva.  She  doesn't  want  to  listen,  but  it'll 
go  better  if  we  wait  until  she  has  gone." 

She  had  come  for  the  cups  and  saucers,  and 
she  took  Ellery's  coffee  before  he  had  had 
a  chance  to  touch  it,  but  no  one  noticed,  he 
least  of  all,  intent  as  he  was  upon  disburden 
ing  his  mind  of  his  fable. 

I  make  no  bones  of  producing  it,  because 
we  all  liked  it  so  well  that  it  seems  as  if  a 
larger  audience  might  be  pleased  at  its  whim 
sical  tone. 

"  'Once  upon  a  time,'  '  he  began  again, 
"  'there  was  a  man  whose  chief  happiness 
came  from  seeing  others  happy.  He  was  in 
deed  an  absolute  altruist. 

"  'Now  it  so  fell  about  that  this  altruist 
was  a  professional  writer,  and  wove  tales  for 
the  magazines,  and  one  day,  being  in  a  happy 


mood,  caused  by  Ms  having  given  his  last 
crust  and  his  last  shirt  to  a  professional  beg 
gar,  he  wove  a  story  for  a  competition  and 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  receive  the  capital 
prize  of  $1,000.00.'  " 

("I  was  thinking  of  you,  Philip,  when  I 
wrote  that,"  said  he.) 

11  'For  a  time  his  joy  was  unbounded,  but 
after  a  while  the  thought  came  to  him  of  those 
in  this  world  to  whom  the  money  would  mean 
so  much  more  than  it  did  to  him,  and  he  es 
sayed  to  put  the  thousand  dollar  bill  into  his 
side  pocket  and  walked  along  the  highway, 
pondering  upon  the  best  disposition  to  make 
of  it. 

"  'And  in  his  abstraction  he  missed  his 
side  pocket  altogether  and  the  thousand  dollar 
bill  fluttered  through  the  air  and  fell  to  earth, 
where  it  lay  in  plain  sight,  if  the  man  had  but 
looked  behind  him. 

"  'Now  after  the  altruist  had  gone  the 
space  of  a  mile  he  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket 
that  he  might  pull  out  the  bill,  and  feeling 
its  tangibility,  plan  its  disposition  with  more 
concreteness. 

"  'And  the  bill  was  gone! 


ELIGIBLE  287 

"  'Then  the  altruist  fell  to  skipping  and 
jumping  in  great  joy.  "For,"  said  he  to 
himself, "  no  matter  who  finds  that  bill  it  must 
perforce  make  him  happy;  therefore  I  have 
added  a  happiness  to  some  fellow  mortal,  a 
happiness  that  is  scarce  ever  vouchsafed  to 
one  on  this  world  of  ours  where  money  is  not 
to  be  had  for  the  mere  picking  up. ' '  And  he 
ran  along  the  highway  full  of  the  joy  of 
others '  lives  and  stirred  to  seraphic  emotions 
by  his  altruistic  temperament. 

11  'Now  in  that  same  town  there  lived  an 
other  altruist,  whom  Howells  or  Tolstoi  would 
have  loved  with  exceeding  ardour.  His  form 
of  altruism  was  not  so  much  sharing  his  joys 
with  others  as  taking  from  them  their  sor 
rows.  As  the  former  added  to  the  joys  of  life, 
so  he  subtracted  from  the  sorrows  of  exist 
ence  or  converted  them  into  his  personal  joys, 
and  he  always  went  about  looking  for  those 
with  long  faces  that  he  might  foreshorten 
them. 

"  'And  it  happened  that  he,  walking  along 
the  highway,  came  upon  the  thousand  dollar 
bill. 

11  'Now,  it  was  a  time  of  roominess  in  his 


288      MINERVA'S   MANCEHVBES 

pocket,  which  had  scarce  felt  the  weight  of 
a  minor  coin  for  many  days.  And  a  thou 
sand  dollars  would  have  brought  luxuries  to 
his  house  for  a  twelve  month,  he  being  un- 
wedded. 

"  'But  when  he  picked  up  the  bill  and  saw 
its  denomination  he  fell  into  loud  lamentation 
and  raised  his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch,  say 
ing, 

"  *  "Woe  is  me,  for  in  this  town  some  poor 
fellow  is  mourning  this  night  at  the  loss  of 
what  may  have  been  his  all." 

"  'And  this  second  altruist  had  a  voice  of 
penetrating  quality,  for  in  his  younger  days 
he  had  been  an  auctioneer,  and  his  words 
went  through  the  stillness  of  the  night  and 
came  to  the  ears  of  the  other  altruist,  walk 
ing  his  happy  way  to  his  home. 

"  'And  at  once  the  first  altruist  turned 
about  and  hastened  to  where  the  voice  came 
out  of  the  night,  saying, 

'  "Weep  no  more,  brother,  for  I  am  com 
ing  to  comfort  thee.  It  matters  not  what  has 
happened  to  thee,  I  have  words  at  my 
tongue's  end  that  cannot  fail  to  give  thee 
good  cheer." 


ELIGIBLE  289 

"  'And  after  a  time  he  came  upon  the  sec 
ond  altruist  swaying  and  moaning  and  wav 
ing  the  bill  in  the  air,  and  he  said  to  him, 

"  '  "  Brother,  what  calamity  has  descended 
upon  thee  ?  Hast  lost  thine  all  I " 

"  'And  the  second  altruist  said, 

"  '  "No,  but  one  of  my  brothers  in  this 
world  has  lost  this  great  piece  of  money,  and 
I  cannot  sleep  this  night  for  grief  at  the 
thought  of  his  sorrow. ' ' 

"  'And  the  first  altruist  stared  at  him  in 
wonder,  and  said, 

"  '  "What  condition  of  affairs  is  this  and 
what  is  the  constitution  of  man?  For  I  had 
attained  to  perfect  joy  at  the  thought  that 
you  (or  another)  had  found  my  money,  while 
you  have  been  rendered  miserable  at  the 
thought  that  I  (or  another)  had  lost  it.  In 
what  way  can  we  be  happy  together  I" 

' '  '  And  even  as  they  held  converse  a  robber 
came  along,  and  snatching  the  thousand  dol 
lar  bill  made  off  with  it. 

"  '  "Ah,'*  cried  both  together,  raising  their 
voices  in  joy,  "now  we  can  be  happy  again, 
for  beyond  peradventure  this  robber  who 
took  the  money  needed  it,  else  he  would  not 


290      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

have  taken  it,  and  while  we  do  not  condone 
his  dishonesty,  we  rejoice  at  his  prosperi 
ty."  '  " 

He  finished  and  looked  around  for  an  ap 
probation  that  was  freely  given  him. 

' ' How  did  you  ever  think  of  such  an  idea? ' ' 
said  Cherry,  and  I  could  see  that  he  had  im 
pressed  her. 

He  looked  at  her  and  began  to  explain  very 
seriously  how  the  idea  had  come  to  him,  and 
she  listened  just  as  seriously. 

"It's  another  edition  of  you,"  said  Ethel 
to  me  with  a  smile,  and  I  recalled  certain 
conversations  that  we  had  had  in  years  gone 
by,  when  she  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
1 '  how  "  of  "  literary  endeavour. ' ' 

She  flashed  a  signal  to  me  that  I  could  not 
mistake.  I  looked  at  the  handsome  pair 
seated  under  the  maple,  he  full  of  the  anima 
tion  of  self  interest,  she  animated  by  a  sym 
pathy  that  might  well  become  something 
greater,  and  instantly  I  began  to  look  ahead 
and  foretell  what  propinquity  would  do  quite 
as  if  they  were  characters  in  a  story  of  mine, 
and  I  intended  that  they  should  fall  in  love 
with  each  other. 


ELIGIBLE  291 

He  had  four  hundred  a  year  or  less,  and 
ambition,  but  she  had  beauty  and — enough 
to  support  two  comfortably  while  ambition 
was  becoming  fruition. 

A  new  interest  had  been  added  to  life  at 
Clover  Lodge. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PAT  CASEY  CALLS. 

THE  next  day  we  were  all  awakened  by 
one  of  Minerva's  morning  songs,  but 
it  was  such  a  morning — the  air  was  so 
bracing  and  fragrant,  the  sun  so  mellow,  and 
yet  not  too  hot,  that  not  one  of  us  felt  that 
the  song  was  out  of  place,  and  all  four  met 
on  the  porch  a  good  half  hour  before  break 
fast. 

"Well,  Ellery,  this  is  a  great  day  to  work. 
How  would  an  epic  do  and  we'll  delay  lunch 
eon  a  half  hour,  so  that  you  can  finish  it. ' ' 

Ellery  looked  over  the  waving,  billowing 
meadows.  Then  he  looked  at  Cherry,  rosy 
and  vibrant  with  animation. 

"I  believe  it's  going  to  do  me  more  good 
if  I  lay  off  for  a  few  days  and  get  charged 
with  some  of  this  air." 

We  all  shrieked  gaily  at  him. 

"We  could  have  told  you  so  last  night," 
said  Ethel. 

292 


PAT    CASEY   CALLS  293 

"I  did  tell  him  so,"  said  I.  " Here's 
where  you  store  up  mental  energy,  but  you 
might  as  well  try  to  write  at  sea  as  to  try 
to  write  up  here.  Let's  go  put  up  the  tennis 
net." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Ellery.  "I  was  go 
ing  to  ask  Miss  Paxton  if  she  wouldn't  show 
me  around  the  place  a  little.  Have  we  time 
before  breakfast?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ethel,  "but  don't  go  too  far. 
Minerva's  going  to  have  griddle  cakes  and 
real  maple  syrup  and  they  need  to  be  eaten 
hot," 

When  the  two  had  sauntered  off  I  said  to 
Ethel, 

"You're  a  romantic  soul  with  your  griddle 
cakes.  Don't  you  see  those  two?  In  the 
language  of  the  day,  Ellery  is  stung. ' ' 

"Imagine  him  married." 

"It  would  be  the  finest  thing  for  him  that 
ever  happened.  He  might  amount  to  some 
thing  with  a  wife  to  look  after  him." 

"It  doesn't  always  work,"  said  Ethel, 
saucily. 

"Better  four  hundred  a  year  where  love 
is — "  I  began. 


294      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

"Than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith,'* 
concluded  Ethel. 

"Something  like  that.  Four  hundred  a 
year  with  love  is  a  large  order.  She  'd  better 
wait  until  Ellery  is  famous.  But  perhaps 
we  'd  better  not  hurry  them  along.  She 's  in 
terested  in  him  because  he  has  talent  and  is 
unrecognised,  and  he's  interested  in  her  be 
cause  he  has  talent  and  she  recognised  it,  but 
I  don't  believe  but  that  you  could  buy  him  off 
with  a  mess  of  pottage — " 

"Or  some  griddle  cakes.  There's  the  bell 
now.  You  call  them. ' ' 

I  called  "Breakfast's  ready,"  although  the 
two  were  out  of  sight,  and  my  call  was  ans 
wered  by  an  "Arl  right.  I'm  just  in  time." 

"Who  was  that?"  said  Ethel  in  some  dis 
may. 

"Sounded  something  like  *th'  ould  scut,7  : 
said  I,  for  by  that  name  our  friend  Casey  had 
come  to  be  known. 

It  proved  to  be  he,  bare-footed  and  hatless, 
coming  to  us  across  the  fields. 

"Good  marnin',  'tis  a  hell  of  a  fine  day." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  I,  "although  your  lan 
guage  is  somewhat  strong." 


PAT   CASEY   CALLS  295 

"No  harrum  intindid,"  said  she,  looking  at 
Ethel  with  a  pleasant  smile.  * '  Ye  can 't  make 
an  insult  out  of  a  hell  or  two  a  day  like  this. 
I  t'harght  that  perhaps  your  woman  would 
like  some  blue  berries  for  breakfast  th'  day, 
an'  I  brarght  them  up.  They're  picked  this 
marnin',  an'  the  dew  is  yit  on  them."  He 
held  out  an  eight  quart  pail  filled  to  the  top 
with  tempting  berries. 

"How  much  are  they,  Pat,"  said  I,  putting 
my  hand  into  my  pocket. 

"Who's  insultin'  now?"  said  he,  with  a 
growling  laugh.  "I'll  sell  no  prisints  this 
yair.  'Twas  a  hell  of  a  bad  ride  ye  had  th' 
other  night,  an'  I  tould  me  ould  woman  I'd 
git  square  wid  ye  one  way  or  another,  an' 
this  is  the  way.  They're  dam  fine." 

"They  certainly  are,"  said  Ethel,  uncon 
sciously  seconding  his  oath. 

She  went  into  the  house  to  get  a  bowl  to 
put  them  into  and  just  then  Ellery  and 
Cherry  came  up. 

"The  top  of  the  marnin'  to  ye,"  said  Pat, 
bowing  to  Cherry,  as  he  had  bowed  to  Ethel. 
"It's  easy  to  tell  why  it's  a  fine  day." 


296      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

Cherry  was  unconscious  enough  to  ask  him 
why. 

"Sure,  wid  you  out  how  could  't  help  ut." 

"Now  will  you  be  good,  Cherry?"  said  I. 

"You've  kissed  the  blarney  stone,"  said 
she,  with  a  lovely  blush. 
'  "Sure  I  have,  but  I  knew  beauty  before 
that." 

His  tone  was  not  offensive  nor  did  Cherry 
take  offence.  It  was  truth  buttered  with  flat 
tery  and  that's  as  good  as  cake. 

Ethel  now  came  out  with  the  bowl,  and  the 
big  "bloomy"  berries,  damp  with  dew,  were 
poured  into  it. 

"It's  glad  I  am  you're  up  here,"  said  Pat, 
as  he  walked  down  the  path.  * '  Neighbours  is 
neighbours,  an'  phwin  you're  passin'  an' 
need  restin'  it's  fine  buttermilk  me  ould  wom 
an '11  give  ye,  an'  glad  of  the  chance.  Good 
marnin'  to  yez." 

' '  Good  morning,  Mr.  Casey,  and  thank  you 
very  much  for  the  berries.  They're  the  best 
I've  seen,"  said  Ethel. 

"They're  dam  fine,  that's  a  fact,"  said  he. 
"But  none  too  good  for  the  likes  of  youse." 

We  all  went  in  to  the  griddle  cakes,  but  be- 


PAT   CASEY   CALLS  297 

fore  Minerva  began  to  fry  them  we  had  heap 
ing  plates  of  blue  berries  and  even  as  the 
burglar  had  been  impressed  by  them  so  were 
Cherry  and  Ellery. 

"I  thought,"  said  Ellery,  "that  your  New 
Englander  was  always  on  the  make. ' ' 

' '  Well,  in  the  first  place,  Pat  is  not,  strictly 
speaking,  a  New  Englander,"  said  Ethel, 
"and  in  the  second  place,  they're  not  always 
on  the  make  by  any  means,  as  we've  often 
found  out  since  we  came  here.  Neighbourli- 
ness  is  never  sold  and  there's  lots  of  neigh- 
bourliness  here." 

"The  very  fact  that  neighbourliness  is  not 
sold  makes  it  the  more  necessary  for  coun 
try  people  to  get  a  good  price  for  the  things 
they  do  sell,"  said  I,  sententiously. 

"It's  a  great  place,"  said  Ellery,  with  en 
thusiasm.  "I  believe  I  will  try  tennis  this 
morning,"  he  added,  somewhat  irrelevantly, 
although  in  justice  to  him  it  should  be  said 
that  his  eyes  had  rested  on  Cherry's  exube 
rant  beauty  before  he  said  it. 

"I'm  a  good  deal  of  a  duffer  at  it.  I  im 
agine  you  play  a  strong  game,  Miss  Paxton. 


298      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Will  you  be  my  partner  in  a  four-handed 
game?" 

"  Dee-lighted, "  said  Cherry,  showing  her 
pretty  teeth. 

"The  writing  of  the  epic  is  indefinitely 
postponed,"  said  Ethel.  "You  are  all  alike, 
you  men." 

' l  Wait  till  next  winter,  Mrs.  Vernon, ' '  said 
Ellery.  "I'm  going  to  make  myself  a  store 
house  of  energy  and  I  dare  say  Vernon 's  do 
ing  the  same  thing." 

"Well,  you'll  need  some  of  it  this  morn 
ing,"  said  I.  "At  tennis  Mrs.  Vernon  and  I 
are  the  strongest  up  here. ' '  He  looked  doubt 
ful.  "It's  a  fact — we  are  introducing  the 
game." 

"Mr.  Sibthorp  and  I  expect  to  make  a 
pretty  strong  team,"  said  Cherry. 

Ethel's  eyes  sought  mine.  And  found 
them. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A   CONTINUOUS   WEEK   END. 

ETHEL  was  reading  a  letter,  Ellery  and 
Cherry  having  brought  the  mail  up 
from  the  post-office.  Ellery  had  now 
been  at  Clover  Lodge  a  fortnight  and  during 
that  time  we  had  fished  (for  bull  heads  this 
time),  had  gone  on  long  tramps,  had  read  to 
each  other,  and  had  played  many  a  game  of 
tennis,  and  while  we  could  not  say  that  Ellery 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  propose  to  Cherry,  he 
was  hard  hit. 

The  glamour  of  the  place  had  appealed  to 
him  and  neither  he  nor  Cherry  had  any  in 
tention  of  going  back  until  we  went  in  Sep 
tember. 

Minerva  had  shown  signs  of  homesickness, 
and  one  day  we  had  let  her  and  James  go  to 
Springfield  to  spend  the  day,  and  after  her 
return  she  had  said, 

"City  ain't  what  it  was,"  which  we  had 

299 


300      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

taken  to  be  a  most  encouraging  sign.  Nearly 
three  months  out  of  New  York  and  still 
happy.  Who  would  have  predicted  it  ? 

Ethel  dropped  the  letter  in  her  lap  and 
said,  "What  are  we  going  to  do,  Philip? 
This  letter  is  from  Madge  Warden,  and  she 
and  Tom  are  going  to  a  place  in  Vermont  to 
try  it  on  the  recommendation  of  a  friend,  and 
Madge  asks  if  it  would  be  convenient  to  stop 
off  on  the  way  up  instead  of  on  the  way  back. 
She  says  that  if  we  could  find  a  shack  for 
them  here,  Tom  wouldn't  care  to  go  to  Ver 
mont.  ' ' 

"Well,  of  course,  have  'em  come." 

"Yes,  but  she  wants  to  come  this  Friday 
for  over  Sunday,  and  we've  invited  the  Bene 
dicts  for  over  Sunday." 

I  thought  a  minute. 

"It  would  be  great  to  have  them  all  here, 
because  they  are  so  congenial,  but  unless  you 
and  I  gave  up  our  room  and  slept  in  ham 
mocks — " 

"Why  couldn't  you  and  Ellery  sleep  in 
hammocks  and  then  I  could  let  Madge  share 
my  room  with  me  and  give  the  Benedicts  the 
spare  room?" 


A   CONTINUOUS   WEEK   END   301 

"And  what  would  become  of  Tom?" 

"Oh,  that's  so,"  said  Ethel.  "I'm  afraid 
we  can't  do  it." 

"They's  a  sofa  in  the  wood-shed,"  said 
Minerva,  who  had  been  dusting  the  sitting 
room  and  always  interested  in  household 
problems,  had  stopped  at  the  open  window 
outside  of  which  we  were  sitting. 

"So  there  is.  Good  for  you,  Minerva," 
said  I,  in  spite  of  a  warning  look  from  Ethel, 
who  says  that  at  times  I  am  too  colloquial 
with  Minerva. 

Ethel  and  I  went  around  to  the  wood-shed 
to  look  at  it.  It  was  across  two  rafters,  but 
with  help  from  James,  who  was  busy  in  the 
vicinity,  I  got  it  down. 

"So  I'm  to  write  and  tell  them  all  to  come? 
Isn't  this  going  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  drain 
on  your  pocketbook,  Philip?" 

"We  can't  do  worse  than  go  home  broke 
and  then  I'll  begin  again." 

"  'Easy  come,  easy  go,'  "  quoted  Ethel, 
with  a  half  sigh. 

"Don't  you  want  'em  to  come?  Will  it  be 
too  hard  on  you?" 

"No,  no,  we'll  make  them  understand  it's 


302      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

a  picnic,  but  you  will  have  to  hustle  in  the 
fall." 

"Well,  hustling  never  killed  anybody,  and 
we'll  have  a  summer  to  remember.  It's  a 
lucky  thing  that  James  is  so  handy.  He  can 
help  in  the  kitchen." 

And  so  the  sofa  was  brought  into  the  house 
and  dusted,  and  the  Wardens  were  implored 
to  come  up  and  told  to  take  the  same  train 
that  the  Benedicts  were  coming  on,  and  the 
haying  season  being  practically  over,  we  were 
able  to  engage  Bert's  double  team  and  his 
three-seated  wagon,  and  Friday  afternoon 
we  all  went  down  to  meet  them. 

No,  not  all.  We  left  Minerva  behind.  She 
and  James  had  to  prepare  a  dinner  for  eight. 

There  was  no  accident  on  the  way  down, 
and  we  arrived  at  the  station  several  minutes 
before  the  arrival  of  the  train. 

At  last  we  heard  the  whistle  below  the 
bridge  and  then  it  steamed  in  and  we  took  up 
our  station  around  the  parlour  car  and  pre 
pared  to  greet  our  guests. 

But  the  only  one  to  get  off  was  a  well-set 
up  young  fellow  in  irreproachable  apparel, 
and  he  did  not  belong  to  us. 


A   CONTINUOUS  WEEK  END    303 

"Why,  of  course,  they  never  would  have 
taken  a  parlour  car.  The  Benedicts  might, 
but  the  Wardens  wouldn't,"  said  Ethel,  and 
we  looked  down  the  platform  to  see  whether 
they  had  alighted.  But  they  had  not.  Our 
guests  had  not  come. 

"Isn't  it  too  provoking,"  said  Cherry, 
sympathetically  to  Ethel. 

"It  really  is,"  said  Ethel.  "That  dinner 
will  be  stone  cold  if  we  wait  for  the  next 
train." 

*  *  When  is  the  next  train  ? ' '  asked  Ellery. 

"In  two  hours,"  I  replied.  "They  won't 
come  to-night,  though.  Something  happened 
to  Tom  at  the  last  minute  and  he  asked  the 
rest  to  wait  and  they  waited.  We'll  get  a 
telegram  saying  so.  Everybody  obeys  his 
will  always." 

The  irreproachable  stranger  had  been  walk 
ing  around  as  if  he  was  looking  for  some 
body.  He  now  approached  me  with  uplifted 
hat. 

"Would  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me 
whether  Mr.  Vernon  lives  near  here?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Vernon." 

He  coloured,  stammered  and  said. 


304      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"I  am  Talcott  Hepburn,  and  I  am  afraid 
that  I've  been  led  into  an  unpardonably  rude 
act." 

''Are  you  the  son  of  Talcott  Hepburn,  the 
art  collector?"  said  I. 

'"Yes, — oh,  you  know  him  then,"  said  he, 
relieved.  ' '  My  friend  Tom  Warden  took  the 
liberty  of  bringing  me  along  with  him — only ' ' 
— here  he  paused.  "He  has  missed  the 
train. ' ' 

I  understood  in  a  minute.  Tom  Warden  is 
an  artist,  and  he  is  the  soul  of  hospitality. 
He  knows  Ethel  and  me  as  well  as  he  knows 
his  father  and  mother,  and  it  never  had 
occurred  to  his  simple  but  executive  soul  that 
there  was  anything  unusual  in  his  asking  a 
friend  to  come  along  without  letting  us  know. 

Of  course,  if  we  could  accommodate  eight 
we  could  accommodate  nine.  But  now  it 
looked  as  if  we  would  have  but  five. 

I  presented  Mr.  Hepburn  to  the  rest  of  the 
"family."  He  was  about  twenty-four  or 
five,  good  looking,  smooth  shaven,  of  course, 
with  a  sober  expression  that  might  have  hid 
den  a  humorous  temperament,  but  did  not. 
It  evidently  did  not  strike  him  that  there  was 


A   CONTINUOUS   WEEK   END    305 

anything  whimsical  in  his  having  arrived 
ahead  of  the  man  who  had  invited  him  to 
be  the  guest  of  a  stranger.  He  did  see,  how 
ever,  that  the  act  itself  was  one  that  might 
be  misconstrued,  and  he  began  to  explain  the 
case  to  Ethel,  who  said  at  once, 

"Why,  Mr.  Hepburn,  Tom's  friends  are 
our  friends,  and  the  more  the  merrier.  I'm 
only  sorry  they  missed  the  train." 

"He  was  busy  with  a  picture  that  some  one 
had  bought  and  which  he  wasn't  satisfied 
with,  and  I  dare  say  he  missed  it  on  that  ac 
count.  He  was  coming  with  a  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Benedict,  and  I  was  to  meet  him  on  the  train. 
I  was  a  little  late  myself,  and  just  had  time 
to  step  aboard,  and  they  missed  it." 

While  he  was  talking  I  was  looking  at  the 
telegraph  office  intending  to  step  over  there 
— it  lay  just  across  the  track — to  enquire 
whether  there  was  a  telegram  for  me.  A 
messenger  boy  came  out,  mounted  a  wheel, 
and  started  across  the  track,  bound  for  the 
road  that  leads  up  to  Clover  Lodge. 

I  ran  and  intercepted  him. 

"Have  you  a  telegram  for  Philip  Ver- 
non?"saidl. 


306      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  dismounting  and  pull 
ing  the  telegram  out  of  his  side  pocket.  "I 
was  just  go'n'  up  to  your  place." 

' '  Saved  me  a  dollar,  didn  't  it  ? "  said  I. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  lost  me  ten  cents." 

"Here's  the  ten  cents,"  said  I,  as  I  signed 
for  the  telegram. 

"It's  collect,  sir,"  said  he;  "forty-five 
cents."  I  paid  Mm  and  I  opened  the  envel 
ope. 

"All  missed  confounded  train.  Be  good 
to  Hepburn  if  he  caught  it.  Will  come  on 
next  train.  Wait  for  us.  Tom." 

A  most  characteristic  telegram  in  every 
way.  It's  superfluity  of  expression,  its 
thought  of  Hepburn  and  its  command  to  wait, 
were  all  as  like  Tom  Warden  as  they  could 
be. 

"There's  nothing  to  do  lout  wait,"  said  I 
when  I  had  shown  the  telegram  to  the  others. 

"The  dinner  will  be  spoiled,"  said  Ethel 
ruefully. 

"Let  me  walk  up  and  tell  Minerva  to 
wait,"  said  Cherry,  and  Ellery  enthusiastic 
ally  seconded  her  motion. 

"Why,  it  seems  too  bad,"  began  Ethel. 


A   CONTINUOUS  WEEK  END    307 

"Not  at  all.  We're  just  going  to  take  a 
walk,"  said  Cherry,  and  they  started,  well 
pleased  at  the  turn  of  affairs. 

I  knew  young  Hepburn  to  be  a  millionaire 
in  his  own  right  and  I  knew  that  Ethel  would 
worry  at  having  him  see  the  make  shifts  to 
which  we  resorted,  but  I  was  rather  amused 
at  the  prospect  myself.  We  had  already 
shown  the  simple  life  to  two  New  Yorkers 
and  now  we  would  show  it  to  some  more. 

We  asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to  ride 
around  Egerton  and  see  a  typical  Massachu 
setts  town  and  he  said  he  would. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  he  to  Ethel,  "I  held 
back  about  coming  up  in  such  a  very  uncon 
ventional  way,  but  you  know  how  compelling 
Tom  is,  and  he  said  he  would  explain  it  all 
before  I  was  even  presented,  and  so  I  came. 
And  then  to  have  him  miss  the  train.  It  was 
awkward. ' ' 

"Simply  one  on  Tom,  Mr.  Hepburn,"  said 
I.  "Our  house  is  one  of  those  affairs  that 
can  be  stretched  to  accommodate  any  number 
of  people  if  they  themselves  are  accommo 
dating.  ' ' 

"Well,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Hepburn,  "I 


308      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

might  find  a  room  at  the  hotel. ' '  Perhaps  he 
had  thought  he  was  not  accommodating. 

I  knew  that  Ethel  was  wishing  that  he 
would  find  a  room  at  a  hotel,  but  there  was  no 
hotel.  She  was  beginning  to  think  how  much 
less  a  sofa  would  be  than  the  bed  he  was  ac 
customed  to  sleep  in  when  he  was  at  home. 
But  when  you  are  picnicking  the  only  thing  to 
do  is  to  have  a  good  time  and  forget  that 
there  is  such  a  proverb  as  ' '  Other  times,  other 
manners." 

Our  ride  was  pleasant  and  it  did  not  seem 
anything  like  two  hours  when  we  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  train  at  South  Egerton,  and 
drove  rapidly  to  the  station. 

Hepburn  offered  to  stay  in  the  carriage  and 
mind  the  horses,  and  I  accepted  his  offer,  al 
though  I  knew  that  Ethel  thought  it  making 
a  very  free  use  of  a  millionaire.  Not  that 
Ethel  is  snobbish,  but  she  has  never  used 
millionaires  much. 

The  train  came  in  and  this  time  I  took  up 
my  place  by  the  ordinary  cars,  and  soon  saw 
the  quartette  moving  along  the  aisle. 

Tom  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw 
Hepburn  sitting  erect  in  the  front  seat  of  the 


A   CONTINUOUS   WEEK  END   309 

picnic  wagon  holding  the  unmistakably  farm 
horses,  and  he  exploded  into  laughter  that 
we  outside  plainly  heard. 

"Hello,"  said  he  as  soon  as  he  emerged. 
"Broken  him  in  already.  Well,  here  we  are. 
Better  late  than  never.  You  know  the  Bene 
dicts?' 

"What  a  question,"  said  Ethel,  kissing  in 
turn  Madge  and  Mrs.  Benedict. 

"But  we  didn't  know  Mr.  Hepburn,"  said 
she  saucily. 

"Oh,  well,  he's  harmless  and  I'll  bet  he 
came  out  of  it  all  right.  Hello,  Croesus. 
Stole  a  march  on  us,  eh?" 

"Croesus"  raised  his  derby,  but  good 
driver  that  he  was,  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
horses. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

WE  INVITE  MORE  GUESTS. 

Tl  7 ELL,  Philip,  my  boy,"  said  Tom, 
V  V  slapping  me  on  the  knee  when  we 
were  all  in  our  seats,  and  I  had 
relieved  "Crresus"  of  the  reins,  "I  suppose 
it  was  an  unpardonable  piece  of  assurance 
for  me  to  invite  a  man  you  had  never  seen 
without  letting  you  know  he  was  coming. 
And  then  to  let  him  come  up  first !  That  was 
certainly  rubbing  it  in,  but  the  poor  boy 
doesn't  have  a  chance  to  get  out  much.  Sort 
of  a  fresh  air  charity  on  your  part. ' ' 

He  roared  with  laughter  at  this  sally  of 
his,  and  Hepburn  smiled  faintly. 

''This  poor  boy  has  always  had  to  do  the 
society  act,  Philip,  and  he's  fitted  for  better 
things.  Hope  you  haven't  any  hops  up  at 
your  house.  Have  you  any  hops?" 

"Not  a  hop,"  said  I. 

"Nor  a  wtfBofi?" 

310 


WE   INVITE   MOEE   GUESTS    311 

* '  Nor  a  cotillon.  In  fact,  I  'm  afraid  it  may 
be  rather  dull  for  one  who  is  accustomed  to 
do  something  all  the  time." 

' '  I  'm  sure  I  '11  have  a  delightful  time, ' '  said 
Hepburn  from  the  second  seat.  ''I'm  rather 
tired.  It'll  be  a  jolly  good  thing  for  me." 

"By  George,  isn't  this  a  paintable  coun 
try?"  broke  in  Tom.  "If  a  man  could  only 
get  the  fragrance  of  this  air  into  his  pictures 
it  would  be  no  trouble  to  get  rid  of  them." 

"Inoculated  already,"  laughed  Ethel. 

"Oh,  I  always  get  inoculated  as  soon  as 
I  come  to  this  kind  of  country.  I  was  born 
on  prairie  country  and  I  never  saw  a  hill  until 
I  was  eighteen,  and  then  I  wondered  how  I 
had  lived  without  'em."  He  turned  'way 
round.  ' '  Pity  you  don 't  paint,  Benedict. ' ' 

Benedict,  on  the  back  seat,  said,  "Oh,  I 
don't  have  to  do  anything  to  enjoy  this.  Just 
to  be  alive  is  enough  in  air  like  this.  Isn't 
it,  Alice?" 

And  Alice  agreed  with  him  and  the  horses 
bore  us  higher  and  higher,  slower  and  slower, 
and  at  last  we  arrived  and  Ellery  and  Cherry 
greeted  us. 

James  came  out  to  relieve  the  guests  of 


312      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

their  suit  cases  and  I  invited  all  hands  to  go 
to  their  rooms  and  remove  the  evidences  of 
their  smoky  ride. 

When  Ethel  and  Madge  had  come  down 
from  our  room  I  said  to  Ethel, 

"No  dressing,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  she,  and  there 
was  a  little  note  of  regret  in  her  voice. 

I  went  up  and  washed  and  put  on  a  cut 
away  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  came  down  and 
walked  back  and  forth  on  the  veranda. 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  three  men 
who  were  using  Ellery's  chamber  as  a  dress 
ing  room  came  down  the  front  stairs.  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  them  and  lo,  two  were 
in  Tuxedos,  and  Hepburn  was  in  full  evening 
clothes. 

Quick  as  a  wink,  and  before  they  saw  me, 
I  whisked  around  to  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  finding  Ethel  in  the  kitchen,  where  she 
was  superintending  some  salad  arrangement, 
I  said, 

"They're  all  dressed.  Me  to  my  evening 
clothes. ' ' 

"Good,"  said  she. 

I  saw  Ellery  within  calling  distance.    He 


WE   INVITE   MORE    GUESTS    313 

was  in  a  sack  coat.  I  hailed  him  and  he  came 
up. 

" Don't  want  to  make  'em  feel  foolish. 
They're  all  dressed.  Run  up  and  put  on  your 
Tuxedo  or  whatever  you  have.  Come  into 
my  room  to  dress  and  we  can  help  each 
other." 

He  got  his  clothes  and  we  hastened  to  my 
room,  where  we  made  as  quick  changes  as 
we  could. 

' '  Funny  about  Ethel, ' '  said  I.  *  *  She  likes 
simplicity,  but  she  also  likes  evening  clothes. 
Says  a  man  looks  better.  I  won't  wear  a 
Tuxedo  and  look  like  a  bob-tailed  cat,  so  I've 
got  to  go  the  whole  thing.  When  she  sees 
five  immaculate  shirt  fronts  she'll  be  just 
about  happy." 

"Well,  it  does  look  nice,"  said  Ellery. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  once  I'm  in  them." 

At  last  we  were  ready  all  but  our  ties,  and 
none  too  soon,  for  we  heard  Ethel  come  into 
the  front  hall  and  say,  "Dinner's  ready. 
Where  are  the  men?" 

And  then  Madge  said,  "Oh,  they  had  to 
run  up  stairs  at  the  last  minute  to  get  some 
thing.  Here  they  come." 


314      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

Ethel  called  up  to  me,  * '  Hurry  down,  dear. 
We'll  go  in  informally." 

"That's  right.  We'll  be  right  down," 
said  I. 

We  heard  the  tramp  of  the  other  three,  and 
I  would  have  run  down  on  account  of  the 
stranger  within  my  gates,  but  Ellery  asked 
me  to  tie  his  cravat,  and  I  made  a  botchy  tie 
of  it,  and  finally  Ethel  called  up  from  the 
dining  room.  "We're  all  waiting,  dear." 

Then  we  both  went  down  in  our  evening 
clothes,  and  entered  the  dining  room. 
Around  it  stood  the  ladies  and  the  three  men, 
and  when  we  saw  them  and  they  saw  us  a 
happy  shout  arose.  The  men  were  not  in 
evening  dress. 

They  had  seen  me  when  they  first  came 
down,  and,  as  Tom  explained  afterward,  Hep 
burn,  seeing  that  I  was  not  in  evening  clothes, 
had  suggested  that  they  all  change  back, 
which  Tom  was  very  glad  to  do, ' '  as  he  hated 
the  durned  things." 

So  there  they  stood  in  sacks  and  cutaway 
and  we  were  the  only  ones  in  evening  dress. 

"Well,  I  won't  change  back  again,"  said 


WE   INVITE   MORE   GUESTS    315 

I,  "but  after  this  let's  give  our  city  clothes  a 
rest  and  just  be  comfortable." 

"But  I  contend,"  said  Benedict,  "that 
evening  clothes  are  just  as  comfortable." 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  "but  it's  harder  to  get 
into  'em,  and  if  we  go  out  walking  after  din 
ner  it's  ridiculous  to  be  dressed  so  stiffly  in 
a  wild  flower  country." 

It  was  a  jolly  dinner  and  no  one  did  more 
to  make  it  jolly  than  Tom.  His  humour  is  ele 
mental,  but  it  is  genuine,  and  his  apprecia 
tion  of  it  is  also  genuine  and  his  tremendous 
reverberating  laugh  is  infectious. 

Many  times  during  the  progress  of  the  meal 
I  found  Hepburn's  placid  eyes  resting  on 
Cherry. 

"Two  of  them,"  thought  I,  and  after  din 
ner  Ethel  and  I  compared  notes  and  we 
agreed  that  Cherry  could  have  her  choice. 

Perhaps  we  jumped  to  conclusions,  but  to 
see  Cherry  was  to  love  her,  and  Ethel  told 
me  that  she  was  glad  that  Cherry  was  only 
a  little  girl  when  I  first  met  her  or  "you 
might  have  been  Mr.  Paxton. ' ' 

' '  Phil,  do  you  know  who  it  would  do  good 
to  have  up  here?"  said  Tom,  after  a  burst 


316      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

of  enthusiasm  concerning  the  country. 
''Jack  Manton.  Jack  Manton  and  Billy  Ed- 
son.  They're  both  stone  broke  and  they're 
getting  their  country  by  taking  walks  out  of 
New  York,  and  this  scenery  would  just  about 
kill  'em  both  dead.  Why  don't  you  ask  'em 
up?" 

A  roar  followed  this  question. 

"Let  'em  sleep  in  the  chimney,"  I  sug 
gested,  at  which  innocent  remark  Minerva, 
who  was  waiting  on  table,  gave  a  suppressed 
giggle  that  set  Cherry  off  and  she  was  fol 
lowed  first  by  Ellery  and  then — of  all  the  peo 
ple  in  the  world,  by  Mr.  Hepburn.  Probably 
Minerva's  act  itself  was  so  unheard  of  that  it 
struck  him  as  being  humourous.  A  maid 
laughing  at  table. 

But  it  was  a  lucky  thing  that  Minerva  was 
in  the  room.  That  is  lucky  for  Jack  and 
Billy. 

"Kin  I  say  sump'n?"  said  she  to  Ethel, 
and  Ethel,  rather  astonished,  said,  "What  is 
it?" 

"They's  a  lot  of  boards  out  in  the  wood 
shed,  an'  James  could  build  a  place  for  those 
gen'lemen." 


WE   INVITE   MORE   GUESTS    317 

"The  very  thing,"  said  Tom.  ''That's  it. 
That's  IT.  Just  ask  'em  up  and  save  their 
lives. ' ' 

"But  you  said  it  would  kill  'em  dead  to 
come  up,"  said  Cherry. 

"Oh,  they  wouldn't  stay  dead  five  minutes 
in  this  air, ' '  said  he.  ' '  Come  on.  If  I  hadn  't 
been  an  artist  I  would  have  been  a  carpenter. 
Send  for  'em.  I  '11  help  build  the  shack. ' ' 

I  looked  at  Minerva.  Her  face  was  beam 
ing. 

She  loved  company. 

"What  do  you  think,  Ethel?" 

"Why,  the  more  the  merrier,"  said  she. 
' '  Are  they  congenial  ? ' ' 

" Congenial 's  no  name  for  it,"  said  Tom. 
"Both  of  'em  starving.  Neither  has  sold  a 
picture  in  six  months,  and  the  night  before  I 
came  away  they  dropped  in  at  my  studio,  and 
when  I  told  'em  where  I  was  coming  they 
were  as  happy  as  if  they  were  coming  them 
selves,  and  were  going  to  share  in  it.  Two 
nice,  promising  boys,  and  perhaps  this  would 
be  their  salvation." 

"Have  them  come  by  all  means  "  said 
Ethel. 


318      MINEBVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

And  Minerva  went  out  to  tell  James  the 
good  news. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  HOT  NIGHT. 

IT  was  a  hot,  clear  moonlit  night. 
Our  newly  arrived  guests,  after  an 
evening  given  up  to  piano  music  and 
song,    had   retired    to    their   various    cubby 
holes. 

But  peace  did  not  lie  upon  the  house,  for 
it  was  the  hottest  night  of  the  season  and 
mosquitoes — hitherto  an  undreaded  foe,  at 
tracted  by  the  unwonted  light  and  the  music, 
had  descended  upon  us  and  as,  of  course, 
screens  were  not  dreamed  of  in  a  place  where 
the  mosquito  rivals  the  tramp  in  scarceness, 
they  had  entered  the  house  and  were  singing 
their  infernal  songs  in  the  ears  of  people 
fresh  from  a  mosquitoless  city. 

I  was  mortified.  It  seemed  a  breach  of 
hospitality  to  invite  people  up  to  a  place 
where  every  prospect  pleases  and  man  is  not 
so  vile,  and  then  to  let  loose  a  horde  of  mos 
quitoes  upon  them. 

319 


320      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

It  was  between  three  and  four  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  soon  the  first  signs  of  dawn  would 
be  upon  us. 

I  was  trying  to  be  comfortable  in  a  ham 
mock  slung  under  the  boughs  of  the  maple, 
and  Ellery  was  trying  to  be  comfortable  in 
another  hammock  slung  under  other  boughs, 
but  neither  of  us  was  making  a  success  of  it, 
although  he  was  fitfully  sleeping.  There 
is  something  unmistakably  enticing  in  the 
thought  of  depending,  cool  and  free  from  a 
leafy  arbour  while  the  summer  moon  watches 
over  one's  slumbers,  and  the  lulling  breezes 
croon  one  to  unconsciousness,  but  loyal  as  I 
am  to  Clover  Lodge  and  its  vicinity,  I  am 
more  loyal  to  truth,  and  that  night  was  a 
night  to  be  remembered  for  years  even  as  the 
blizzard  is  remembered — but  for  opposite 
reasons. 

The  air  was  still,  but  the  mosquitoes  were 
not  and  neither  were  my  guests.  I  could 
hear  them  stirring  and  slapping  and  I  feared 
that  some  of  them  were  cursing,  and  I  longed 
for  dawn  with  all  my  heart.  Dawn  and  the 
hot  day  that  would  follow  in  its  wake,  for  at 


rA  HOT   NIGHT  321 

least  we  could  escape  to  some  lofty  point, 
where  the  mosquitoes  would  not  follow  us. 

I  knew  that  Tom  and  Benedict  were  used 
to  all  sorts  of  experiences,  and  I  knew  their 
wives  too  well  to  think  for  a  moment  that 
they  would  hold  me  responsible  for  the  night 
and  the  winged  pests,  but  Hepburn — 

Hepburn  had  been  raised  in  the  lap  of  lux 
ury,  and  when  I  thought  of  his  tall  form  ac 
commodating  itself  to  the  ornate  but  con 
tracted  sofa,  I  felt  so  uncomfortable  that  I 
thought  of  going  in  and  asking  him  to  swap 
couches  with  me — and  change  discomfort. 

I  fell  into  a  doze,  from  which  I  was  awak 
ened  by  hearing  a  step  on  the  gravelled  path. 

I  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant. 

Between  me  and  the  moon  was  outlined  the 
tall  form  of  Hepburn,  fully  clothed  and  smok 
ing  a  cigar. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr  Hepburn?'*  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  softly,  so  as  to  awaken  no 
one  else.  "Did  I  wake  you?  Pardon  me." 

1 '  Oh,  that 's  all  right.  But  why  are  you  up 
and  dressed?" 

"Why,"  said  he,  very  glibly,  "the  night  is 
so  beautiful  and  bright  that  it  seems  a  sin  to 


322      MINEKVA'S  MANCEUVBES 

sleep,  don't  you  know.  I  thought  I'd  stroll 
about  a  bit." 

My  conscience  smote  me. 

"It  was  that  sofa,  wasn't  it?" 

"Don't  say  a  word.  Sofa's  awfully  jolly, 
but  I  think  I  drank  too  much  coffee." 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  Ellery,  wak 
ing  up. 

"What  do  you  say  to  a  swim?"  said  I. 

"When?"  said  Ellery,  sleepily. 

"Why,  now.  How  does  it  strike  you,  Mr. 
Hepburn?" 

"Great." 

Ellery,  still  half  asleep,  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  then  saw  Hepburn  for  the  first  time. 

"Why,  is  it  as  early  as  that?"  said  he. 

"Earlier,"  said  Hepburn,  which  was  not 
so  bad. 

I  had  sat  up  in  the  hammock,  and  setting 
my  feet  in  my  slippers,  I  rose  to  my  pajamaed 
height  and  said, 

"This  is  the  hottest  ever.  I'll  get  the 
other  fellows  and  we'll  go  over  to  Marsh's 
Pond  and  have  a  swim  at  sunrise." 

I  tiptoed  up  to  the  hot  box  that  contained 


323 

Tom  and  Benedict  and  whispered  to  them, 
"Are  you  awake?" 

Tom  answered,  "Oh,  no,  we're  sound 
asleep  and  dreaming  of  icebergs." 

Then  I  could  hear  him  shaking  the  bed  with 
suppressed  laughter. 

"Well,  come  along  for  a  swim.  Get  into 
your  old  clothes  and  don't  make  a  noise." 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  all  ready.  We 
passed  under  Minerva's  window,  and  al 
though  we  stepped  lightly  we  waked  her  and 
we  heard  her  heavy  feet  coming  down  on  the 
floor  of  her  room. 

I  knew  that  a  yawp  was  due,  so  I  said  in  a 
voice  loud  enough  to  reach  her,  "Don't  be 
frightened,  Minerva.  It  isn't  burglars.  It's 
Mr.  Vernon  going  for  a  walk." 

' '  Lawdy,  I  thought  it  was  more  burglars, ' ' 
said  she,  and  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Other  voices  were  now  heard  and  from  the 
window  of  the  spare  room  was  thrust  the 
head  of  Madge,  who  demanded  what  was  the 
trouble. 

"Lack  of  sleep,"  said  Tom.  "We're  go 
ing  for  a  swim.  Down  to  the  old  swimmin' 
hole,  my  dear." 


324      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

"What  won't  men  do?"  said  Madge,  and 
retired  to  envy  us  our  privileges. 

"Might  as  well  tell  Ethel  what  we're  do 
ing.  She  may  be  worried,"  said  I,  and  we 
walked  under  her  window. 

"Give  'em  a  song,"  said  Benedict,  who  was 
a  fine  baritone,  and  he  began  it,  "  '  Sleep  no 
more,  ladies,  sleep  no  more.'  ' 

He  sang  it  as  a  solo  as  none  of  us  knew 
the  setting  he  used,  but  as  an  injunction  it 
was  needless.  The  ladies  were  not  calculat 
ing  on  sleeping  any  more. 

' '  Where  are  you  going  ? ' '  asked  Ethel  from 
somewhere  out  of  sight. 

"Oh,  only  down  to  the  old  swimmin'  hole," 
said  Tom. 

"Why,  there's  no  swimming  hole  any 
where 's  near,"  said  she. 

"Marsh's  Pond,  my  dear,"  said  I.  "This 
is  a  record-breaker  for  heat  and  we're  going 
to  break  the  record  for  swimming  at  an  un 
seasonable  hour.  We'll  be  back  for  break 
fast.  Good  night." 

"How  far  is  it?"  asked  Tom. 

"Oh,  only  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,"  said  I. 
"We'll  take  it  easy  there  and  back." 


A   HOT    NIGHT  325 

"Please  may  I  be  excused,"  said  Benedict. 
"I'm  not  in  training  for  such  a  walk  on  an 
empty  stomach." 

"That's  easily  remedied.  We'll  fill  up  on 
cold  lamb." 

And  we  did  fill  up,  and  then  we  started,  and 
in  spite  of  the  heat,  we  enjoyed,  the  walk.  It 
was  after  three  and  it  would  need  the  pencil 
of  a  poet  and  artist  combined  to  tell  of  the 
wonders  and  the  beauties  of  that  walk  with 
the  delicate  indications  of  the  coming  dawn 
filling  the  east  with  rosy  promise. 

Marsh's  Pond  is  about  two  miles  long  and 
a  half  a  mile  wide,  and  it  has  at  one  point  a 
sandy  beach.  Around  it  are  cottages  and 
bathing  houses,  most  of  them  bearing  the 
idyllic  names  that  lake  dwellers  love  to  be 
stow  upon  their  houses.  We  passed  "The 
Inglenook"  and  "The  Ingleside"  and  "Ingle- 
wild,"  and  "Tramp's  Best,"  and  many  an 
other  bearing  equally  felicitous  titles,  and  at 
last  we  came  to  the  sandy  beach  just  as  the 
sun  cast  its  first  golden  beams  on  the  foliage 
of  the  woods  across  the  lake. 

"Hepburn,  you're  a  brick  for  waking  up 
so  early, ' '  said  Tom.  ' '  If  only  I  had  thought 


326      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

to  bring  along  my  little  flask.  It's  just  the 
thing  before  a  morning  swim. ' ' 

"If  you  don't  mind  Scotch,"  said  Hepburn, 
producing  a  cunning  little  silver  flask. 

Ellery  was  on  the  water  wagon,  but  the  rest 
of  us  drank  to  the  rising  sun  and  then  plunged 
in  and  were  cool. 

' '  It  was  worth  the  walk, ' '  said  Benedict,  as 
he  dove  and  emerged  twenty  feet  beyond. 
"Why  don't  people  do  this  every  day?" 

With  the  sun  had  come  a  gentle  breeze  that 
was  several  degrees  cooler  than  the  surround 
ing  atmosphere  had  been,  and  we  spent  a 
pleasant  half  hour  admiring  the  coming  of 
day  from  our  watery  vantage. 

After  we  had  come  out  we  went  into  the 
bathing  house,  which  went  by  the  name  of 
Tramp's  Best.  It  was  a  roomy  affair,  and 
had  been  left  open  all  winter,  or  we  would 
have  been  unable  to  enter  it. 

"We'll  put  up  a  shack  like  that,"  said 
Tom,  "and  Jack  and  Billy  can  bunk  in  it." 

"I'm  afraid  we  haven't  lumber  enough," 
said  I. 

When  we  were  ready  to  go  home  Hepburn 
and  Ellery  said  they  were  going  back  by  what 


A   HOT   NIGHT  327 

is  called  the  upper  road,  which  is  a  half  mile 
farther,  but  we  chose  the  lower  road,  and 
were  home  a  good  half  hour  ahead  of  them. 

It  was  after  six  and  we  were  ravenous.  A. 
west  wind  was  blowing  and  it  had  blown  the 
crazy  horde  of  mosquitoes  away,  and  it  was 
much  cooler,  and  I  am  thankful  to  say  that 
not  again  that  summer  did  we  have  such  a 
visitation.  Mosquitoes  might  always  be 
found  in  the  long  grass,  but  it  was  easy  to 
avoid  them. 

Minerva  prepared  an  early  breakfast,  and 
just  as  we  sat  down  to  it  Ellery  and  Hepburn 
arrived. 

''How  do  you  like  it  as  far  as  you've  got, 
Talcott?"  asked  Tom,  as  we  all  sat  down. 

"Well,  do  you  know  I  read  this  'Simple 
Life,'  that  the  President  recommended,  and 
I  didn  't  see  such  an  awful  lot  in  it,  but  if  this 
is  it,  it's  all  right.  I  don't  think  I  ever  had 
such  an  appetite  for  breakfast  before. ' ' 

"After  being  awake  all  night  you  ought 
to  have, ' '  said  I,  in  an  apologetic  tone.  ' '  You 
see  the  Wheelocks  had  two  young  children 
and  they  did  not  entertain  and  as  we  took  the 


328       MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

house  furnished  we  were  not  prepared  as  we 
should  have  been." 

"But  it's  nice  to  have  the  house  full  all  the 
time,"  said  Ethel,  who  evidently  thought  my 
remark  ungracious. 

"No  question  of  its  having  been  filled  last 
night,"  said  Tom,  rubbing  his  cheek,  "Filled 
with  mosquitoes.  I  thought  they  never  came 
up  here." 

* '  You  might  say  they  never  do.  Last  night 
was  an  exception,"  said  I. 

"Dear,  dear,  how  like  Jersey  that  sounds. 
Jersey  nights  are  made  up  of  exceptions," 
said  Tom. 

Minerva  appeared  at  the  door,  not  with 
her  hand  raised,  but  in  an  attitude  that  said 
"Please,  may  I  speak,"  and  Ethel,  with  a 
hasty  look  at  Hepburn,  said,  "What  is  it, 
Minerva  ? ' ' 

"Now  James  wanted  to  know  where 's  he's 
to  build  that  lean  to." 

"The  what?"  said  Ethel. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Tom,  grasping  the 
situation.  "You  tell  James  to  wait  until 
after  breakfast  and  I'll  come  out  and  show 
him." 


rA   HOT   NIGHT  329 

Minerva  shut  the  door  and  Tom  said, ' '  She 
believes  in  free  speech." 

"I  must  speak  to  her,"  said  Ethel. 

But  there  was  a  general  chorus  of  objec 
tions,  Hepburn  expressing  his  opinion  by 
saying,  ' '  It  strikes  me  as  awfully  quaint,  you 
know. '  ' 

After  breakfast  Tom  took  me  aside  and 
said, 

"Now,  see  here,  Phil,  this  deluge  wasn't 
expected  by  you,  but  I  don't  see  any  indica 
tion  of  the  waters  subsiding.  We  all  want 
to  stay.  Now  hospitality  is  hospitality,  but 
we're  not  paupers  and  we're  not  rich  enough 
to  feel  that  we  can  live  on  you  all  summer 
without  a  murmur.  You  understand  1  Now, 
I've  forced  Billy  and  Jack  on  you,  and  I've 
been  talking  with  Hepburn  and  Benedict,  and 
we're  going  to  form  a  pool  to  cover  expenses. 
Don't  want  you  to  make  a  cent  out  of  us,  but 
we  don't  want  you  to  be  out  of  pocket,  and 
so  if  you'll  let  us  pay  our  share  of  the  bills 
when  they  come  in  we'll  stay.  Otherwise  we 
all  go  back  to-morrow.  Yes,  sir,  we  all  go 
back  to-morrow.  I'm  in  earnest." 

Tom  was  a  curious  mixture  of  simplicity 


330      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

and  worldly  wisdom,  and  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  him. 

' 'Well,  go  home,"  said  I,  "and  leave  us 
to  ourselves." 

He  put  his  arm  around  my  shoulder. 

"Now,  you  don't  mean  that  at  all,  old  man. 
You  were  both  glad  to  see  us  and  you  want 
us  to  stay.  Hepburn's  having  the  time  of  his 
life." 

"With  his  midnight  walks?" 

"That's  all  right.  It  was  part  of  the  fun. 
Now,  I  'm  going  to  see  about  getting  some  cot 
beds  because  Hepburn  is  too  long  for  that 
sofa.  Where  can  I  get  a  wagon?" 

I  told  him  about  Bert,  and  he  went  on  to  see 
James  about  the  lean  to. 

Later  I  met  Hepburn.  He  came  up  as  if 
he  wanted  to  speak  about  something  that  was 
weighing  on  his  mind,  and  I  expected  to  have 
him  tell  me  that  he  had  just  received  a  tele 
gram  calling  him  home  at  once,  but  I  was 
mistaken. 

"It's  no  end  jolly  up  here,"  said  he,  "but 
I  can  see  that  we're  a  good  deal  of  a  house 
hold  for  Mrs.  Vernon.  She  doesn't  look 
strong.  Now,  isn't  there  some  place  near  by 


A  HOT   NIGHT  331 

where  we  could  arrange  to  stay,  don't  you 
know,  and  come  over  here  for  tennis  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing?  I'd  like  to  come  up 
again. ' ' 

"Why,  you're  not  going?" 

"Why,  I  really  ought  to,  you  know.  So 
unexpected  my  coming  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing." 

Ethel  had  heard  us  talking  and  she  came 
out  of  the  house. 

"We  don't  want  you  to  think  of  going,  Mr. 
Hepburn,  if  you  can  be  comfortable.  I'll  be 
able  to  borrow  a  bed  to-night  and  if  Mr. 
Warden  builds  that  temporary  shed,  in  such 
weather  as  this  you'll  be  comfortable  sort  of 
camping  out." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.  The  mosquitoes  were 
a  bit  annoying,  but  everything  else  is  all 
right.  I'm  feeling  very  fit  this  morning,  I 
assure  you." 

"Then  don't  think  of  going,"  said  I. 

And  then  Cherry  came  out  with  the  tennis 
net  and  Hepburn  relieved  her  of  it  immedi 
ately  and  went  with  her  to  put  it  up,  and  El- 
lery  and  Mrs.  Benedict  came  out  a  minute 


332       MINERVA'S   MANCEUVEES 

later  and  announced  that  they  were  going  for 
a  little  walk. 

Ethel,  with  a  suggestive  glance  at  me,  that 
seemed  to  imply  that  all  was  not  right  be 
tween  Cherry  and  Ellery,  went  into  the  house 
to  invite  "Jack"  and  "Billy,"  while  I  went 
down  to  James's  house  to  see  about  engaging 
James 's  little  sister  to  help  Minerva.  If  we 
were  going  to  be  a  hotel  we  would  need  more 
help. 

As  I  passed  the  woodshed  I  saw  Tom  in 
his  shirt  sleeves  sawing  planks,  while  Bene 
dict  and  James  were  acting  as  willing  help 
ers. 

The  only  one  who  was  doing  nothing  was 
Madge,  so  I  hunted  her  up  and  invited  her 
to  go  with  me  to  the  house  of  James. 

And  thus  continued  the  day  begun  so  early 
in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

TRAMP'S  BEST." 

TOM  had  discontinued  work  on  the  lean- 
to  for  some  untold  reason,  and  just 
after  lunch  he  and  Hepburn  had  gone 
over  to  Bert 's  to  get  the  horse  and  go  for  the 
cots. 

The  rest  of  us  broke  up  into  convenient 
groups  and  tennised  or  walked,  but  by  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  a  drowsiness  came 
over  us,  superinduced  by  our  sleepless  night, 
and  with  the  exception  of  Ethel  and  Mrs. 
Benedict,  who  were  helping  prepare  dinner, 
.we  all  slept,  some  in  hammocks,  one  on  the 
ornate  sofa  and  the  rest  in  the  three  bed 
rooms. 

And  then,  just  before  dinner,  Tom  and 
Hepburn  not  having  come,  we  all  went  out 
to  look  for  them. 

It  ought  not  to  have  taken  them  long  to 

333 


334      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

buy  two  cot  beds  and  bring  them  up,  and  they 
had  been  gone  four  hours  at  least. 

We  walked  upwards  of  a  mile  toward  town, 
and  at  last  came  to  a  rock,  from  the  top  of 
which  we  could  command  a  view  of  the  rest 
of  the  road  to  Egerton,  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  Bert's  wagon. 

"Well,"  said  Ethel,  "we'd  better  be  start 
ing  back,  for  dinner  ought  to  be  ready  soon. ' ' 

And  so  we  sauntered  back,  expecting  every 
minute  to  be  overtaken  by  the  cot  bringers. 

We  arrived  at  the  house  and  all  entered  by 
the  south  door,  attracted  thereto  by  the  re 
cumbent  figures  of  our  truants.  Each  one 
was  reclining  gracefully  upon  a  cot  reading, 
and  smoking  excellent  cigars. 

"Here,  here,"  said  Tom,  when  he  saw  us. 
"This  will  never  do.  Dinner's  ready  this 
ten  minutes,  and  Hepburn  and  I  are  starv 
ing." 

As  soon  as  Hepburn  had  seen  us  he  had 
risen  from  his  couch,  but  Tom  continued  to 
lie  there  blocking  the  doorway. 

"What  about  that  lean-to,"  said  I. 

Tom  rose  and  folded  up  his  cot  as  an  Arab 
is  supposed  to  fold  his  tent.  Then  he  set 


"TRAMP'S  REST'*  335 

it  up  against  the  side  of  the  house  and  said 
oracularly : 

"The  lean-to  is  indefinitely  postponed. 
We  know  more  than  we  did  this  morning." 

"Well,  but  where  have  you  been?  We 
walked  half  way  to  town  and  didn  't  see  you, ' ' 
said  Ethel. 

"Exploring  the  country.  Haven't  we,  Tal- 
cott." 

"It's  a  beautiful  country,"  said  Talcott, 
laughing. 

All  through  dinner  those  two  seemed  to 
have  a  secret,  and  as  near  as  we  could  make 
out,  Minerva  was  in  it,  because  every  time 
she  came  into  the  room  and  looked  at  Tom 
she  smothered  chuckles. 

After  dinner  Tom  said,  "Mrs.  Vernon, 
what  do  you  say  to  our  taking  our  coffee  in 
the  summer  house  ? ' ' 

"In  the  summer  house,"  said  Ethel,  "why, 
there  isn't  any  summer  house." 

"Well,  whatever  you  call  it,  then.  Mi 
nerva,  you  bring  it  to  us  there. ' ' 

Minerva  broke  out  into  childlike  laughter. 

"All  right,  sir,  I  will." 


Then  she  looked  at  her  mistress  and  said, 
' i  Kin  I  do  it,  ma  'am. ' ' 

Ethel  shook  her  head  at  Tom  and  said, 

"You're  a  bad  boy.  All  this  is  subversive 
of  discipline."  But  she  told  Minerva  to  do 
as  Mr.  Warden  wished,  and,  Tom  leading  the 
way,  we  all  went  out  of  the  house  feeling  that 
we  were  on  the  verge  of  a  surprise. 

Out  the  front  door  and  north  of  the  house 
we  went  and  then  around  to  the  lesser  or 
chard  at  the  back  of  it  and  there,  between  two 
apple  trees,  stood  a  "summer  house,"  over 
the  dilapidated  door  of  which  was  a  sign  read 
ing  "Tramp's  Best." 

We  who  had  bathed  that  morning  recog 
nized  in  it  the  bath  house  in  which  we  had 
dressed. 

"How  did  you  get  that  here!"  said  several 
of  us  at  once. 

"If  you  don't  mind  having  it  on  your 
land,"  said  Hepburn,  "I'd  like  to  make  you  a 
present  of  it.  I  took  a  fancy  to  it  this  morn 
ing  and  this  afternoon  Tom  and  I  drove  over 
there  on  our  way  from,  town  and  brought  it 
back." 


"  TRAMP'S   BEST  >:  337 

"Yes,  "but  who  said  you  could  take  it ! "  said 
Benedict. 

"Oh,  I  bought  it  this  morning.  Mr.  Sib- 
thorp  and  I  found  out  the  owner  and  he  was 
willing  to  sell  it  for  a  song." 

"But  how  did  you  get  it  here  on  that 
wagon 1 ' ' 

"Oh,  we  didn't.  We  had  this — er — Bert's 
horses — but  an  Irishman  of  the  name  of 
Casey  loaned  us  his  hay  wagon  and  he  felt 
insulted  when  I  offered  to  pay  him  for  the 
use  of  it.  He  really  became  violently  abus 
ive,  don't  you  know,  and  used  highly  colored 
language,  but  we  could  see  that  he  meant 
well.  Really  I  thought  him  something  of  a 
character.  Didn't  you  think  him  a  character, 
Mr.  Sibthorp?" 

"He  certainly  was,"  said  Sibthorp.  "He 
had  no  opinion  at  all  of  Bert's  horses.  Said 
he  had  an — ould — ould — " 

"Ould  scut,"  I  suggested. 

"That's  it.  Said  he  had  an  ould  scut  of  a 
horse  that  would  walk  right  away  from  Bert's 
pair,  and  that  any  time  we  wanted  to  take  the 
young  ladies  out  for  a  ride  to  come  and  take 
him  right  out  of  the  stall,  whether  he  was 


338     MINERVA'S  MANCEU7BES 

there  or  not.  His  language  was  ornamented 
with  picturesque  oaths  that  wouldn't  sound 
well  here,  but  they  were  awfully  funny. ' ' 

"I  guess  he  said  nothing  that  he  wouldn't 
say  before  anyone,"  said  Ethel. 

Sibthorp  gave  her  a  whimsical  look.  * '  Ex 
cuse  me,"  said  he,  "but  I  guess  that  when 
you've  heard  him  talk  he  has  repressed  his 
vocabulary. ' ' 

"Why,"  said  Ethel,  "you  know  he  came 
with  berries  the  morning  after  you  came. ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  Ellery,  "he  had  sworn  off  that 
morning.  You  ought  to  have  heard  him  to 
day." 

"Perfectly  willing  to  let  it  go  at  imagin 
ing,"  said  Ethel. 

And  then  Minerva  came  out  with  the  lilting 
walk  that  was  hers  when  she  was  happy.  She 
bore  a  tray  and  set  it  down  on  a  rustic  table 
that  I  remembered  to  have  seen  in  the  furni 
ture  store  at  Egerton  the  week  before. 

"Here's  to  the  ' Tramp's  Best,7  "  said  Tom 
when  we  had  all  been  provided  with  coffee. 
"I  boney  a  cot  in  this  house  to-night. 
You  fellows  can  sleep  in  rooms  if  you  want. 
For  me  the  stars  through  the  cracks. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MINERVA   AND   THE   SNAKE. 

THE  latter  part  of  the  week  Ethel  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  Billy,  saying  that 
he  and  Jack  would  be  delighted  to 
come  up. 
Billy 's  letter  was  characteristic.    It  ran : 

' '  My  Dear  Mrs.  Vernon : 

"You  are  a  kind,  good  lady.  Jack  agrees 
with  me  in  this.  You  have  saved  our  lives. 
It  has  been  a  long  time  since  we  sold  any 
pictures,  and  we  have  forgotten  the  address 
of  our  bank,  so  we  were  not  thinking  of  going 
to  any  summer  resort  this  summer,  but  your 
invitation  could  not  be  refused  without  insult 
ing  you. 

"  It  is  not  entirely  as  if  we  were  strangers, 
however,  because  we  know  Tom  (oh,  don't 
we  know  him)  and  we  know  your  husband. 
Tom  has  brought  him  to  the  Olla  Podrida 
Club  more  than  once  and  has  made  him  smoke 
the  club  cigars  which  we  thought  unkind.  So 
we  have  a  certain  sympathy  with  your  hus- 

339 


340      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

band  and  are  prepared  to  like  him  better  the 
more  we  know  him. 

"Will  you  please  ask  Tom  to  tell  us  what 
train  to  take,  and  also  to  do  any  other  things 
that  are  necessary.  He  will  understand. 

"Please  give  my  regards  to  Miss  Paxton. 
You  mentioned  her  as  part  of  your  'party/ 
and  she  must  be  a  large  part,  unless  she  has 
changed.  I  used  to  know  her  before  I  came 
to  New  York,  when  she  was  a  little  girl  (three 
years  ago). 

"Jack  wants  me  to  tell  you  that  whatever  I 
think  of  you  he  thinks  also,  and  that  you  do 
not  know  how  much  you  have  done  for  ART 
IN  AMERICA  by  making  it  possible  for  us 
to  set  down  on  canvas  the  beauties  of  your 
state.  (I'm  not  sure  whether  that  should  be 
a  capital  S  or  not.) 

"Yours  cordially, 

"WILLIAM  EDSON." 

When  we  showed  the  letter  to  Tom  and 
asked  him  what  Mr.  Edson  meant  by  saying, 
"ask  Tom  to  do  any  other  things  that  are 
necessary,"  he  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

1 1  That  means  in  plain  English  that  the  dear 
boys  are  stone  broke,  and  that  they  will  need 
money  before  they  can  buy  their  tickets.  I 
will  telegraph  them  ten  dollars." 


"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Benedict, 
"that  those  young  men  are  going  to  borrow 
the  money  to  come  up  here?" 

"Yes,  why  not?"  said  Tom  with  just  a  sus 
picion  of  heat  in  his  tone. 

"Why,  nothing,"  said  Benedict,  "only  I'd 
stay  in  the  city  all  summer  before  I'd  borrow 
money  to  go  away.  I'd  be  too  independent." 

"Independent,  poppycock,"  said  Tom. 
"We're  told  to  let  independence  be  our  boast, 
but  we're  also  told  that  it's  wrong  to  boast. 
So  it's  wrong  to  boast  of  independence.  No 
man  can  be  independent  in  this  world.  He 
relies  on  one  man  to  bring  him  into  the  world 
and  on  another  to  bury  him,  and  all  the  time 
he's  here  he's  relying  on  one  person  or  an 
other.  The  only  thing  is  for  him  to  accept 
help  and  be  willing  to  help.  That's  all," 
Tom  laughed.  "Sermon's  over.  Collection 
will  now  be  taken  up  to  bring  those  two  babes 
to  the  place  where  they  can  make  bread  for 
next  winter.  No,  sir.  You,  Phil,  can  not 
contribute.  This  hard-as-nails  Benedict,  who 
thinks  he's  made  his  own  way,  and  who  has 
been  helped  all  along  by  our  free  institutions, 
will  chip  in,  and  so  will  old  Croesus  when  he 


342      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

comes  back  from  his  horse-back  ride  with 
Cherry."  He  paused.  "Sibthorp  ought  to 
learn  to  ride." 

Benedict's  hand  went  down  into  his  pocket 
and  brought  out  a  bill. 

' '  Now,  see  here, ' '  said  Tom.  ' l  I  don 't  want 
you  to  have  the  idea  that  you're  doing  a 
charitable  act,  for  you're  not.  Those  boys 
are  going  to  give  us  a  couple  of  sketches  be 
fore  they  go  back,  and  we'll  sell  them  for 
more  than  ten  dollars  and  refund  pro  rata. 
Will  that  satisfy  your  sordid  business  soul?" 

Benedict  drew  off  and  gave  Tom  a  friendly 
punch.  They  were  always  insulting  each 
other,  having  been  friends  for  years,  and 
both  of  them  members  of  the  Olla  Podrida 
Club,  which,  by  the  way,  is  an  association  of 
artists  and  men  interested  in  art.  Benedict 
buys  a  picture  once  in  a  while  and,  according 
to  Tom,  when  he  relies  on  the  advice  of  ani 
artist  friend,  he  gets  a  good  one.  When  he 
relies  on  his  own  judgment  he  gets  something 
that  provides  no  end  of  amusement  to  all  the 
artists  except  the  one  who  painted  the  pic 
ture. 


MINERVA   AND   THE    SNAKE   343 

"I  want  none  of  your  impudence,  Tom," 
said  he,  and  then  Minerva  interrupted. 

It  seems  as  if  Minerva  were  always  inter 
rupting  and  generally  with  a  shriek. 

"Oh,  Lawdy!  Lawdy!  there's  a  big  worm 
in  the  kitchen!"  cried  she  as  she  came  run 
ning  out  of  the  sitting  room  to  where  we  were 
standing. 

"Worms  can't  hurt  you,  Minerva,"  said 
Tom.  ' '  Go  get  a  bird  and  see  him  catch  the 
worm. ' ' 

* '  Oh,  my !  but  this  worm  would  eat  any  bird 
I  ever  saw.  It's  that  long." 

She  showed  how  long  it  was,  and  Tom  said, 

<  <  Why,  it  must  be  a  snake. ' ' 

We  men  ran  into  the  kitchen,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  was  a  little  green  snake  about 
a  foot  long  and  frightened  in  every  inch. 

Tom  picked  up  the  mop,  and  carefully  aim 
ing  at  the  little  creature,  he  brought  it  down 
about  three  feet  away  from  it.  For  the  snake 
had  eluded  him. 

Minerva's  curiosity  was  greater  than  her 
fear,  and  she  came  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen 
to  watch  us. 

Benedict  picked  up  a  broom  and  made  a 


344      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

swipe  at  the  snake  that  upset  a  pitcher  of 
milk,  but  missed  the  snake  which  coiled  its 
pretty  green  length  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
raised  its  pretty  head  and  darted  out  a 
needle-like  and  beautifully  red  tongue  at  us 
in  a  way  that  reminded  me  of  the  Morse  al 
phabet. 

I  cannot  explain  why  I  was  thus  reminded, 
and  probably  such  a  reminder  was  far  from 
the  snake's  intention. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  the  little 
fellow.  They  say  that  snakes  love  milk. 
Here  was  a  place  flowing  with  milk,  but  he. 
could  not  stop  to  drink  it  because  three  huge 
beings  threatened  his  very  life. 

"Can  he  jump?"  said  Minerva,  preparing 
to  jump  herself. 

"No,  Minerva,  he  is  perfectly  harmless," 
said  I,  resolved  to  save  his  life.  "Say,  you 
fellows,  stop  whacking  at  him  and  capture 
him  alive.  I  want  to  show  Minerva  that  these 
snakes  haven't  a  vicious  thought  in  their 
heads." 

I  took  the  mop  from  Tom,  and  watching 
my  chance,  I  brought  it  down  on  the  snake 


MINERVA  AND   THE   SNAKE   345 

in  such  a  way  as  to  pin  it,  wriggling.  Then 
I  picked  it  up  by  the  neck. 

"Oh,  Lawdy!"  cried  Minerva,  and  step 
ping  backward  trod  on  the  tail  of  Miss  Pussy 
who  happened  to  be  coming  into  the  kitchen. 

Miss  Pussy  emitted  a  yell  that  Minerva 
firmly  believed  to  come  from  the  mouth  of 
the  snake,  and  clapping  both  her  hands  to 
her  ears  she  rushed  through  the  dining  room 
and  met  Ethel  coming  in. 

Ethel  and  she  met  on  their  foreheads,  and 
Minerva  was  not  hurt  at  all.  Ethel,  however, 
was  hard  hit,  and,  infected  with  Minerva's 
panic,  she  turned  and  ran  through  the  sitting 
room  into  the  arms  of  Madge,  who  had  come 
to  see  what  was  happening. 

Madge  was  almost  bowled  over,  but  man 
aged  to  withstand  the  shock,  and  brought  the 
chain  of  concussions  to  an  end. 

I  am  perhaps  a  crank  on  the  subject  of 
snakes,  but  I  do  object  to  the  senseless  panic 
that  seizes  on  some  people  when  they  see  one. 
Now,  if  it  were  a  mouse,  it  would  be  different. 
A  mouse  has  cluttering  little  feet  and  a  meth 
od  of  approach  that  reminds  one  of  happen 
ings  in  a  previous  state  of  existence,  and  I 


confess  that  a  mouse  in  a  room  will  spoil 
my  peace  of  mind,  but  a  snake  is  generally 
good  to  look  upon,  and  it  is  graceful  beyond 
measure,  and  it  is  nearly  always  harmless 
and  perfectly  willing  to  leave  you  most  of 
the  world  for  your  inheritance. 

So  I  kept  hold  of  the  snake,  and  after  Ethel 
had  assured  me  that  she  was  not  seriously 
hurt  by  the  impact  of  Minerva's  splendidly 
built  skull,  I  told  her  that  I  wanted  to  give 
Minerva  a  little  lesson  in  natural  history. 

There  is  one  thing  about  Minerva.  She 
is  a  reasonable  being.  Her  fear  of  cows  van 
ished  after  we  had  assured  her  that  cows 
were  for  the  most  part  friendly,  and  as  there 
were  no  rattle-snakes  in  the  vicinity,  I  knew 
I  was  safe  in  calming  her  fears  in  regard  to 
the  snake.  So  I  asked  her  and  the  rest  to 
come  out  of  doors  and  I  would  show  her 
what  a  perfectly  innocuous  thing  our  little 
green  friend  was. 

"Nearly  everything  we  meet  out  doors, 
Minerva,"  said  I,  "is  disposed  to  leave  us 
alone  if  we  will  leave  it  alone.  This  little 
green  snake,  that  looks  as  if  it  were  fresh 
from  Ireland,  is  only  anxious  now  to  get 


MINERVA   AND   THE   SNAKE   347 

away  from  me  and  rejoin  its  little  ones.  If 
you  kept  the  kitchen  full  of  snakes  there 
would  never  be  any  flies  there,  because  snakes 
love  flies.  Come  and  stroke  him.  I  give  you 
my  word  he  will  neither  sting  nor  bite." 

Minerva  came  up  with  confidence,  and  amid 
shrieks  from  all  the  women  she  patted  the 
little  green  head,  and  the  little  red  tongue 
came  out  and  spelled  a  message  of  love  to  her. 

"See  there,  Minerva!  He  wants  to  show 
you  that  he  is  perfectly  friendly." 

"My,  aint  he  clean!" 

* '  Of  course  he 's  clean.  Snakes  are  all  the 
while  washing  themselves  with  their 
tongues. ' '  I  caught  Ethel 's  eye,  and  felt  that 
my  natural  history  was  shaky,  but  I  wanted 
to  make  an  interesting  story  for  Minerva, 
and  who  cares  for  facts  in  natural  history, 
so  long  as  you  have  something  that  will  be 
read? 

"I  dare  say  that  at  one  time  snakes  and 
cats  belonged  to  the  same  family.  When 
you  see  a  cat  crouched  down  and  creeping 
along  after  a  bird,  it  looks  like  a  snake.  Its 
head  is  flattened  and  its  ears  are  laid  back 


348      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

and  its  tail  looks  just  like  a  snake  in  itself. 
Probably  snakes  once  had  fur — " 

"And  they  rubbed  it  all  off  creepin' 
'round." 

"Exactly.  Now,  take  this  little  snake  and 
be  kind  to  him  and  overcome  your  antipathy 
to  him — " 

As  I  said  this  I  loosened  my  hold  on  him, 
preparatory  to  handing  him  to  Minerva. 

But  instead  of  going  to  Minerva,  he  turned 
and  made  his  way  swiftly  up  my  arm  and 
around  my  neck. 

Ugh.  I  never  felt  anything  so  creepy  in 
my  life.  I  flung  him  from  me  (with  a  wild 
cry,  Ethel  says,  although  I  think  she  is  mis 
taken).  At  any  rate  I  tossed  the  snake  far 
from  me,  and  he  made  his  sinuous,  chilly, 
gliding,  repulsive  way  to  his  waiting  family. 
And  probably  wrote  a  book  on  the  bad  habits 
of  human  beings  from  his  short  and  super 
ficial  observation  of  them. 

There  is  a  certain  rooted  antipathy  to 
snakes  that  lies  deep  at  the  base  of  our  being. 
I  cannot  explain  it,  but  I  know  it 's^  there.  I 
am  no  snake  charmer. 

Minerva  might  have  said  something,  but 


MINERVA   AND    THE    SNAKE   349 

she  knew  her  place,  and  refrained.  She 
merely  went  out  to  the  kitchen  and  guffawed 
all  by  herself,  while  I,  ignoring  the  remarks 
of  my  friends,  went  upstairs  to  wash  the  feel- 
ing  of  cold  snake  from  my  neck. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  HORSEHEAD  PERCH. 

I  ENJOY  the  luxury  of  being  absent- 
minded  sometimes.  I  claim  that  to  be 
absent-minded  once  in  a  while  proves 
that  one  has  a  mind  to  be  absent. 

I  was  absent-minded  the  day  that  Jack  and 
Billy  were  expected  and  I  went  over  to  the 
lake  to  fish  for  bass  with  Sibthorp,  with 
never  a  thought  of  them. 

The  rest  of  my  guests  went  their  various 
ways  and  left  the  house  to  Ethel  and  Mi 
nerva,  and  about  an  hour  before  train  time 
Ethel  realized  that  I  had  done  nothing  about 
getting  the  expected  arrivals. 

"Can  you  drive  a  horse,  Minerva!"  said 
she. 

"I  kin  sit  in  the  wagon  and  hold  the  reins." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  all  that's  necessary, 
but  I  can't  even  do  that.  You'll  have  to 
take  me  down  to  get  the  men  who  are  ex 
pected.  '  ' 

350 


A  HORSEHEAD  PERCH        351 

"Yas'm." 

"We  must  go  at  once  and  get  Mr.  Casey's 
horse." 

I  must  explain  that  Ethel  knew  that 
"th'  ould  scut"  had  had  the  blind  staggers 
the  day  before  and  that  Pat  had  explained 
that  he  could  not  have  two  attacks  the  same 
week,  as  the  blood  letting  simply  rejuvenated 
him. 

So  the  two  set  off  for  Pat 's  and  found  him 
unhitching  his  horse. 

'"Oh,  have  you  just  been  to  town?"  said 
Ethel  (as  she  told  me  afterwards). 

"Sure  I  have.  Can  I  git  y'anny  thing 
there!" 

"Why,  I  wanted  to  meet  two  friends  who 
are  coming  up.  If  I'd  known  you  were  go 
ing  down — " 

"I'd  have  waited  arl  night  fer  them.  An- 
nything  to  oblige  a  leddy.  Take  him  though, 
you.  He's  gentle  as  a  kitten.  Gentler,  be 
cause  I've  not  spared  'im.  He'll  not  have 
the  blind  staggers.  I  bled  him  like  a  pig  yes- 
tiddy,  an'  he's  fresh  as  the  morning." 

As  he  talked  he  harnessed  him  up  again 


352      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

and  invited  the  two  to  get  in  and  he'd  turn 
him  around  and  start  them  right. 

"What '11  I  do  if  anything  happens,  Mr. 
Casey?" 

"Sit  on  his  head  and  holler  fer  help." 

' '  Oh,  of  course, ' '  said  Ethel.  ' '  I  read  that 
in  a  book. ' ' 

Minerva  went  off  in  an  ecstacy  of  laugh 
ter. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at,  Minerva?" 
asked  Ethel. 

"I  was  wonderin'  how  you'd  get  up  to  his 
head." 

"Why,  Mr.  Casey  means  if  he  falls  down. 
Don't  you,  Mr.  Casey?" 

"  'Deed  an'  I  do.  But  he  won't  fall  down. 
He's  strarng  as  a  horse  an'  gentle  as  a — -as 
a  litter  of  kittens.  He  knows  it's  a  leddy  be 
hind  him,  an'  he'll  have  plisant  thoughts  of 
you  arl  the  way  down.  But  don't  use  the 
whip.  After  bleedin'  he's  a  bit  skitterful." 

We  had  had  the  horse  several  times  at  a 
pinch  and  Ethel  knew  that  he  always  cau 
tioned  against  use  of  the  whip,  although 
th'ould  scut's  hide  was  as  tough  as  that  fa- 


A   HORSEHEAD   PERCH         353 

mous  one  ' '  found  in  the  pit  where  the  tanner 
died." 

"You  take  the  reins,  Minerva,"  said  Ethel. 

Minerva  took  them  and  pulled  them  up  so 
tight  that  she  almost  yanked  the  horse  into 
the  wagon. 

"Oh,  he'll  never  stumble.  A  loose  rein 
an'  a  kind  worrd  an'  th'  whip  in  the  socket 
an '11  he  go  like  the  breezes  of  Ballinasloe. 
Good  bye  an'  God  bless  you." 

And  so  they  started  and  the  horse  went 
along  in  a  leisurely  manner  as  was  his  wont. 
Once  he  strayed  off  to  the  roadside  to  crop 
the  verdant  mead  and  as  Minerva  pulled  on 
the  wrong  rein  she  nearly  upset  the  wagon. 
But  she  was  quick  to  learn,  and  before  they 
had  gone  a  mile  Ethel  said  she  drove  as  if 
she  had  been  doing  it  all  day. 

They  found  that  the  horse  had  the  pleas 
ing  habit  of  picking  up  apples  that  lay  in  the 
road — for  their  way  ran  by  several  apple- 
trees,  and  there  were  windfalls  in  plenty.  As 
he  was  not  checked,  every  time  this  happened 
Ethel  felt  as  if  they  were  going  to  be  pitched 
out  head  foremost,  but  they  made  their  first 
mile  in  safety  and  then  the  horse,  reaching 


a  level  stretch  ''got  a  gait  on  him"  and 
trotted  along  in  good  shape  for  nearly  half  a 
mile. 

When  they  came  to  the  place  called  "long 
hill"  Ethel  got  out  so  that  the  horse  would 
have  less  difficulty  in  making  the  descent. 

Minerva,  innocent  as  a  child  as  to  the 
proper  thing  to  do,  did  not  tighten  the  check! 
rein  nor  did  she  take  in  the  slack  in  the  reins, 
but  resting  her  hands  idly  in  her  lap  chir 
ruped  to  the  horse  as  she  had  heard  James 
do,  and  he  began  the  "perilous  descent." 

Half  way  down  he  saw  a  bit  of  hay  in  the 
road,  and  being  of  a  mind  to  eat  it,  he  lowered 
his  head  at  the  very  moment  that  he  stepped 
on  a  loose  stone,  and  the  next  minute  Mi 
nerva  was  over  the  dashboard,  and  the  horse 
and  she  lay  in  the  road  together. 

She  was  the  first  one  to  pick  herself  up. 
In  fact  she  was  the  only  one  to  do  it,  as  Ethel 
was  several  rods  away  and  almost  too 
frightened  to  stir. 

"Quick,  Mis.  Vernon,  come  and  sit  on  his 
head." 

Ethel  told  me  that  she  did  not  like  the 
idea  at  all,  but  it  was  a  case  that  called  for 


A   HORSEHEAD   PERCH         355 

but  one  decision.  The  horse  had  been  loaned 
to  her  and  if  she  could  save  its  life  by  sit 
ting  on  its  head  she  meant  to  do  it,  although 
she  did  hope  that  Minerva  would  relieve  her 
from  time  to  time. 

"I  thought  we'd  divide  it  up  into  watches," 
she  told  me,  "and  I  did  hope  that  some  wood 
team  would  come  along  soon." 

The  horse  struggled  to  rise,  but  as  the  hill 
was  steep  he  found  it  hard  to  do  and  in  a 
minute  my  wife  had  seated  herself  as  ele 
gantly  as  she  could  on  his  head,  and  probably 
smoothed  her  skirts  over  her  shoe  tops  after 
the  manner  of  womankind. 

Minerva,  her  spirits  ebullient  as  soon  as 
she  saw  that  no  damage  had  been  done,  went 
off  into  a  roar  of  laughter  at  the  quaint  spec 
tacle  of  Ethel  using  a  horse  as  a  sort  of 
couch. 

"I  wonder  if  it  hurts  him?"  said  Ethel. 

"'Deed  no.    You  ain't  heavy  enough." 

"Well,  if  I  get  tired  I'll  want  you  to  come." 

"Lawdy,  I'd  smash  him.  He  won't  need 
me." 

"Is  anyone  coming?" 

"No'm." 


356      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

''Well,  isn't  this  too  vexing?  There  are 
those  two  men  coming." 

" Where?"  said  Minerva,  looking  up  and 
down  the  road. 

' '  No,  I  mean  on  the  train.  Of  course  they 
can  hire  a  team,  but  it  is  awfully  vexing  to 
have  this  happen. ' ' 

"Yas'm.     Shall  I  get  you  a  napple?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  Minerva 
climbed  a  rail  fence — not  without  difficulty 
— and  picked  up  several  red  astrachans  that 
lay  just  beyond  it.  Then  she  essayed  to  re 
turn,  but  this  time  she  got  caught  when  half 
way  over  and  could  not  extricate  herself. 

' '  Mis.  Vernon,  I  'm  stuck.  Somep  'n  caught 
my  dress.  Come  an'  help  me." 

"Oh!  Dear!  I  can't  help  you.  I  can't 
leave  this  horse  for  a  minute.  There's  no 
telling  what  might  happen.  Isn't  this  aw 
ful?" 

1 '  'Deed  it  is.  Never  did  think  much  of  that 
ould  scut.  What  is  an  ould  scut,  Mis.  Ver 
non?" 

"Oh,  it's  just  a  pet  name.  Irish  people 
are  very  affectionate. ' ' 

"Never  get  my  affections,"  said  Minerva, 


A   HORSEHEAD   PEECH         357 

race  prejudice  cropping  out  even  in  her  pre 
dicament. 

All  the  while  she  was  trying  to  free  her 
self,  and  at  last  she  tore  herself  loose,  sac 
rificing  a  part  of  her  skirt,  and  rolled  over 
the  fence,  the  apples  scattering  in  front  of 
her  as  if  in  a  panic. 

But  once  over  she  gathered  them  up  and 
handed  one  to  Ethel,  who  leaned  back  along 
the  forehead  of  her  animal  sofa  and  gave 
herself  up  to  the  delights  of  eating. 

''Would  the  ould  scut  like  one  too?"  asked 
Minerva. 

"Oh,  surely,"  said  Ethel,  and  so  Minerva 
picked  out  a  large  apple  and  held  it  to  the 
velvet  nose  of  the  poor  old  horse.  He  smelt 
it  eagerly  and  opening  his  jaws  took  it  in. 

Minerva  sat  down  in  the  grass  of  the  road 
side  and  fell  to,  herself,  and  for  a  minute, 
Ethel  said,  the  three  jaws  crunched  apple 
pulp  noisily. 

"Mis.  Vernon?" 

"What  is  it,  Minerva?" 

"How  come  a  horse  can  eat  when  he's 
standin'  up.  Lyin'  the  way  he  is  now  it's 
easy  because  the  apple  kin  go  along  level,  but 


358       MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

when  he's  standin'  up  how  can  it  go  way  up 
in  his  head." 

"Why,  he  swallows  it." 

"Yes,  but  how  can  he  swallow  up?  We 
swallow  down.  If  I  was  to  stand  awn  my 
head  I  couldn't  swallow." 

She  was  silent  a  minute  and  then  she  said, 
" Go 'n'  to  try." 

And  try  she  did. 

There  in  the  lonely  road,  with  Ethel  re 
clining  so  luxuriously  on  a  horse-hair  sofa, 
Minerva  played  circus  and  made  a  croquet 
wicket  of  herself  and  then  tried  to  eat  an 
apple. 

Ethel  was  so  interested  in  the  experiment 
that  she  was  surprised  when  she  heard  a 
masculine  voice  say,  "Well,  I  swan!" 

She  turned,  and  there  below  her  in  the  road 
stood  the  figure  of  the  Perkins'  hired  man. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  said  Ethel 
from  her  perch.  "What's  the  proper  thing 
to  do  to  this  horse?" 

"Well,  I'd  git  off  his  head  first  off." 

Ethel  left  her  seat,  the  hired  man  took  hold 
of  the  bridle,  the  horse  made  one  or  two  tries 
and  then  rose  to  his  feet  and  Ethel  said  he 


A   HORSEHEAD   PEECH         359 

shook  himself  so  violently  that  she  thought 
the  harness  would  break. 

But  it  stayed  together  in  all  its  knotted 
parts  and  Minerva,  somewhat  shamefaced  at 
having  been  caught  trying  to  swallow  like  a 
horse,  climbed  up  into  the  wagon  and  my 
wife  drove  on  down  town,  where  she  arrived 
just  as  Jack  and  Billy  were  about  concluding 
a  dicker  with  a  hackman. 

When  they  saw  th '  ould  scut  they  concluded 
the  dicker — Ethel  having  introduced  herself, 
and  then  they  insisted  that  she  ride  up  with 
them,  while  Minerva  followed  after  with  the 
grips. 

Sibthorp  and  I  and  no  fish  arrived  home 
simultaneously  with  my  guests. 

The  meeting  of  Billy  and  Cherry  was  most 
affecting.  They  acted  like  school  children 
over  each  other.  It  struck  me  at  the  time 
how  much  more  a  woman  will  palaver  over 
a  man  if  she  does  not  care  for  him  in  any 
other  than  a  Platonic  way  than  she  will  when 
her  affections  are  engaged. 

It  is  also  queer  how  some  men  express 
themselves  more  fully  in  their  letters  than 
they  do  in  their  actions. 


360       MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Billy  was  much  quieter  than  Tom,  and  Jack 
was  almost  reserved. 

But  the  same  air  that  has  a  lazing  effect 
on  writers  braces  up  artists  to  do  good  work. 
Tom  had  painted  two  landscapes  since  his  ar 
rival  and  Billy  and  Jack  went  out  after  sup 
per  and  each  took  a  shy  at  the  same  sunset. 

It  was  curious  to  see  how  different  were 
the  colors  each  used. 

And  the  sun  had  used  another  palette  al 
together.  And  yet  all  three  sunsets  were 
beautiful  and  I  dare  say  that  one  was  as  true 
as  the  other,  all  of  them  being  illusions. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY. 

IT  may  not  possess  any  interest  to  the 
reader,  but  I  feel  that  we  have  been  to 
gether  so  long  (if  he  has  not  skipped) 
that  he  ivill  be  interested  to  know  that  early 
in  September  an  editor  in  New  York  wrote 
me,  saying  that  he  would  take  a  long  story 
of  mine  at  such  a  figure  that — well,  our 
summer  outing  was  more  than  paid  for  and 
on  receipt  of  the  check  I  stopped  keeping  a 
hotel  and  insisted  on  my  "guests"  becoming 
guests — a  distinction  with  a  wide  difference. 
Golden  rod  was  yellowing  the  lanes  and 
fields  and  roads,  and  here  and  there  purple 
asters  were  foretelling  the  approach  of  win 
ter.  The  nights  were  getting  chilly  and  pro 
viding  an  excellent  excuse  for  pine  knot  wood 
fires,  around  which  we  all  gathered  and  told 
stories  or  listened  to  Cherry's  piano  music 

361 


or  to  heated  but  amicable  art  discussions  on 
the  part  of  the  three  brushmen. 

Two  goal  points  beckoned  us  to  the  future ; 
one  of  them  the  centennial  anniversary  of 
good  old  Mrs.  Hartlett,  the  other  the  cattle 
show  at  Oakham. 

The  former  would  fall  on  September  16th ; 
the  latter  on  October  3rd,  and  the  day  after 
the  cattle  show  our  happy  household  would 
break  up.  We  expected  to  go  down  with  the 
rest  and  open  up  our  flat  and  we  regretted 
the  necessity  of  doing  so,  as  the  time  ap 
proached. 

We  had  grown  to  love  the  country  in  all  its 
moods  and  I  felt  sure  that  in  winter  also  we 
would  find  it  full  of  the  stimulus  of  life,  but 
even  with  James  for  a  companion,  we  knew 
that  Minerva  would  not  outstay  the  first 
snow  storm,  and  since  his  situation  with  the 
liveryman  now  only  awaited  my  announce 
ment  and  his  acceptance  of  it,  we  were  going 
to  count  the  winter  in  New  York  as  simply 
so  many  days  of  anticipation  of  the  next  sum 
mer's  joys  with  perhaps  the  same  crowd  of 
congenial  people,  and  it  might  be  two  of  them 
keeping  house  in  a  new  bungalow. 


HUNDREDTH   ANNIVERSARY    363 

After  all,  Hepburn  was  better  fitted  than 
Sibthorp  to  make  a  husband  for  Cherry. 
She  was  a  girl  with  luxurious  tastes  and  the 
very  fact  that  she  could  live  our  simple  life 
and  be  happy  argued  that  she  would  make  an 
ideal  helpmate  for  the  man  who  had  been 
born  with  a  diamond  encrusted  spoon  in  his 
mouth. 

Mrs.  Warden  thought  that  Billy  also  was 
smitten,  but  if  so  Cherry  did  not  know  it. 

The  centenary  of  Mrs.  Hartlett  fell  on  a 
perfect  day.  The  morning  broke,  cool  and 
cloudless  and  a  brisk  west  wind  policed  the 
air  all  day  and  kept  it  free  from  disorderly 
elements. 

At  three  o'clock  we  all  went  over  to  her 
house  on  foot.  Sibthorp  and  the  artists  had 
ransacked  a  greenhouse  at  Egerton  and  were 
loaded  down  with  roses :  Hepburn  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  buy  a  century  plant  in 
bloom  and  the  rest  of  us  bore  other  offer 
ings. 

On  the  little  lawn  in  front  of  her  house  sat 
Mrs.  Hartlett  on  a  stiff-backed  chair  that  had 
belonged  to  her  grandfather.  She  was  alert 
and  smiling  and  actually  rosy.  Her  hun- 


364      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

dred  year  old  eyes  sparkled  with  animation 
and  she  was  just  as  proud  of  having  achieved 
a  century  as  any  wheelman  ever  was. 

There  were  at  the  lowest  estimate  two  hun 
dred  people  gathered  on  the  lawn  about 
the  old  lady,  and  I'll  venture  to  say  that  not 
five  of  them  were  there  out  of  idle  curiosity. 
There  were  Minerva  and  James  and  the 
president  of  the  Egerton  National  Bank,  and 
the  pastors  of  three  churches  of  different 
protestant  denominations  and  a  compara 
tively  newly  arrived  Hungarian  family,  to 
whom  Mrs.  Hartlett  had  been  "neighbourly," 
and  Father  Hogan  and  the  Guernseas  and 
the  man  whose  pipe  I  had  returned.  (He 
had  brought  Mrs.  Hartlett  a  peach  pit  bas 
ket,  which  he  had  whittled  himself  and  which 
gave  her  great  joy,  as  she  said  it  was  exactly 
like  one  that  her  brother  had  given  her  in 
1812). 

But  to  go  back  to  the  guests.  Such  a 
heterogeneous  collection  of  people  one  does 
not  often  see,  and  yet  they  all  had  one  com 
mon  object;  to  render  homage  to  a  woman 
who,  for  a  century,  had  breathed  a  spirit  of 
kindliness  and  tolerance  that  was  American 


HUNDREDTH   ANNIVERSARY    365 

in  the  best  sense.  Yankee  farmer,  Hungar 
ian  immigrant,  Pat  Casey — who  was  there, 
alert  and  smiling — all  were  the  better  for 
Mrs.  Hartlett's  having  lived  so  long  a  life, 
and  each  one  felt  it  in  his  own  way. 

And  almost  every  one  present  had  brought 
a  gift.  In  some  instances  they  were  trifling 
affairs — like  the  peach  pit  basket — but  the 
kindly  spirit  of  giving  was  there,  and  I  doubt 
not  that  Mrs.  Hartlett  valued  the  little  carv 
ing  for  the  sake  of  the  associations  it  brought 
up  full  as  well  as  she  did  the  handsome  an 
tique  chair  that  the  Guernseas  gave  her. 

One  of  the  last  arrivals  was  a  man  who 
had  walked  many  miles  to  visit  her  on  her 
birthday.  He  drew  after  him  a  toy  express 
wagon. 

He  was  patriarchal  in  appearance,  with 
a  long  white  beard  and  eyes  more  shrewd 
than  kindly,  and  yet  it  was  a  kindly  spirit 
that  had  drawn  him  ten  miles  out  of  his  ac 
customed  itinerary  that  he  might  pay  his  re 
spects  to  the  woman  who  had  never  bought 
a  single  one  of  his  wares,  but  who  had  always 
given  him  a  pleasant  salutation  and  had  more 
than  once  invited  him  to  come  in  and  par- 


366      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

take  of  berries  and  milk,  or,  if  it  was  winter 
time,  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee  and  fortify  him 
self  against  the  elements. 

It  was  Isidor  Pohalski,  an  old  man  about 
thirty  years  Mrs.  Hartlett's  junior,  a  ped 
dler  by  occupation,  who  in  summer  drew  his 
wares  around  the  country  on  a  little  express 
wagon  and  in  winter  drew  them  on  a  boy's 
sled.  (So  they  told  me.) 

He  had  brought  a  present  too,  a  bertha  of 
Belgian  lace,  and  when  I  saw  him  and  Father 
Hogan  and  Rev.  Mr.  Hughson  and  the  bank 
president  and  the  artists  so  near  together  it 
gave  me  a  kind  of  lion  and  lamb  feeling  that 
smacked  of  the  millennium. 

"Do  you  mean  it  for  me?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hartlett,  recognising  the  beautiful  lace. 

Isidor  nodded,  saying  nothing.  His  Eng 
lish  was  for  but  one  at  a  time.  In  a  crowd 
he  was  reduced  to  signs. 

"Much  thanks.  Much  thanks,"  said  Mrs. 
Hartlett,  quaintly,  being  one  of  those  who 
talk  to  a  foreigner  with  special  idioms.  She 
held  out  her  hand  and  shook  his  and  said, 

"You  stay  for  lemonade?    Yes?" 

The  Hebrew  nodded  and  smiled  and  stayed. 


HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSAEY   367 

There  was  one  surprise  connected  with 
the  very  informal  exercises  of  the  afternoon 
and  that  was  the  gift  by  Mrs.  Hughson  on 
behalf  of  the  people  generally  of  a  rouleau 
made  up  of  one  hundred  gold  dollars. 

"May  your  pathway  to  heaven  be  paved 
wid  'em,"  said  the  irrepressible  Pat,  step 
ping  up  and  shaking  hands  with  her. 

' '  Thank  you,  sir, ' '  said  she,  and  Pat  walked 
off  with  his  head  in  the  air  and  brimming 
over  with  good  feeling — and  suppressed 
oaths. 

"Won't  you  sing  your  song,  Mrs.  Hart- 
lettf "  asked  Cherry. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  in  very  good  voice 
today,"  said  the  old  lady  with  an  exagger 
ated  simper  and  then  she  hastened  to  say, 
"That's  what  people  used  to  say  when  I  was 
a  girl.  There  was  much  more  singing  then 
than  there  is  now,  but  it  was  always  con 
sidered  right  to  apologise  for  one's  voice." 

She  cleared  her  throat  and  then  she  turned 
to  the  doctor,  who  sat  near  her,  and  said,  ( '  I 
wanted  to  dance,  to-day,  but  Dr.  Ludlow  says 
that  at  my  age  the  less  I  dance  the  better  for 
my  health — and  I  dare  say  he  is  right." 


368      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

She  looked  at  the  doctor,  her  eyes  twink 
ling,  and  then  she  sang  a  strange  old  song 
that  I  had  never  heard  before.  It  was  sung 
to  a  quaint  air  that  might  have  been  by  Pur- 
cell  and  that  told  of  what  befell  the  daugh 
ters  of  a  king  who  lived  up  in  the  "North 
countree:" 

1  i  '  The  king  lived  up  in  the  North  Countree 

"  'Bow  down  downaday 
' '  '  The  king  lived  up  in  the  North  Countree 

'  *  '  The  bough  that  bends  to  me 
' '  '  The  king  lived  up  in  the  North  Countree 
"  'And     he     had     daughters,     one,     two 

three — 
"  '  I  '11  prove  true  to  my  love, 

11  'If  my  love  proves  true  to  me.'  " 

It  was  a  melodramatic  song  and  told  of  the 
death  by  drowning  of  the  youngest  of  the 
three  daughters,  and  the  phraseology  was  so 
queer  that  it  might  easily  have  become  comic ; 
but  the  old  lady  sang  it  with  such  simplicity ; 
her  voice,  in  spite  of  its  quavers,  was  so  true 
and  still  bore  such  evidence  of  the  silvery 
quality  that  it  had  once  contained,  that  my 
three  artist  friends  afterwards  acknowledged 


that  the  song  gave  them  a  choky  feeling  in 
the  throat. 

Sibthorp  told  them  that  one  did  not  need 
to  be  an  artist  to  have  choky  feelings. 

At  the  song's  conclusion  Pat  Casey  turned 
to  the  Eev.  Mr.  Hughson,  by  whose  side  he 
was  standing,  and  said, 

" She's  a  dam  good  woman — glory  be  to 
God." 

Cherry  had  made  some  sort  of  lace  ar 
rangement  for  the  hair,  three  cornered  and 
arabesque,  and  when  Mrs.  Hartlett  had  fin 
ished  singing  she  crowned  her  with  it. 

It  wasn't  particularly  becoming,  but  when 
I  said  so  Ethel  said  I  was  horrid. 

Just  after  the  singing  I  saw  Minerva 
whisper  something  to  James,  and  the  two 
went  off.  At  the  time  I  supposed  that  she 
had  gotten  tired  of  standing  around  among 
white  folks,  with  nothing  to  do,  and  in  a 
measure  I  had  guessed  right,  but  I  was  not 
prepared  for  what  followed. 

The  windows  of  Mrs.  Hartlett 's  parlour 
were  open ;  it  had  been  her  intention  to  hold 
her  reception  in  the  house  until  she  saw  that 


370      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

it  would  be  impossible  with  such  an  out-pour 
ing  of  neighbours  and  friends. 

Suddenly  from  out  the  open  windows  came 
the  sound  of  melodious  voices — negro  voices 
singing  one  of  the  most  plaintive  of  the 
darkey  melodies:  "Steal  Away  to  Jesus." 

Our  proposed  concert  at  Egerton  had  fal 
len  through,  owing  to  various  reasons.  We 
had  made  it  all  right  with  Deacon  Fotherby 
by  sending  him  the  goodly  amount  of  a  col 
lection  taken  up  one  evening  among  the 
Clover  Lodgers. 

But  when  I  heard  the  music  and  recog 
nized  that  there  were  four  voices  concerned 
in  it  I  realized  that  the  concert  had  merely 
been  changed  in  point  of  time  and  place  and 
that  we  were  now  listening  to  it,  and  that  it 
was  one  of  Minerva's  sudden  inspirations. 
She  had  come  to  Mrs.  Hartlett's  with  no  gift 
and  the  generous-hearted  girl  had  proposed 
that  she  and  James  and  the  others  give  the 
only  thing  in  their  power  to  give. 

The  effect  was  strangely  beautiful.  The 
voices  were  softened  just  a  little ;  they  were 
in  perfect  accord  and  the  four  sang  with  the 


HUNDREDTH   ANNIVERSARY    371 

sincerity  of  feeling  that  negroes  always  throw 
into  their  songs,  whether  grave  or  gay. 

"It's  Minerva's  present  to  you,  dear," 
said  Cherry,  leaning  over  and  patting  Mrs. 
Hartlett's  hand. 

"Niggers  can  sing,  annyway,"  was  Pat's 
Irish  comment. 

I  think  everyone  present  felt  that  he  or 
she  had  some  part  in  the  concert.  It  was 
what  they  all  would  have  done  if  they  had 
been  able,  and  as  we  listened  to  song  after 
song,  some  "spirituals,"  some  full  of  laugh 
ter,  and  saw  the  rapt  expression  on  the  face 
of  Mrs.  Hartlett,  we  felt  that  the  "century" 
was  being  crowned  felicitously  through  the 
happy  idea  of  an  ignorant  girl,  whose  heart 
was  in  the  right  place. 

The  thing  that  made  Minerva  a  joy  for 
ever  was  that  her  heart  was  in  the  right 
place. 

Perhaps  that  is  why  James  had  found  it 

so  easily. 

******** 

When  we  went  home  at  sunset  from  the 
old  lady's  house  Cherry  walked  by  her  old- 
time  playmate,  Billy,  and  it  struck  me  that 


he  might  be  thinking  of  becoming  a  rival  to 
Sibthorp  and  Hepburn. 

"  It 's  cruel  in  Cherry  to  let  that  young  man 
walk  with  her,"  said  I  to  Ethel. 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  that  he  has  ever 
thought  of  Cherry  except  as  an  old  friend," 
said  she. 

"Well,  if  Cherry  lets  him  walk  with  her 
much  he  will  begin  to  think  Cherry  is  catch 
ing." 

"But  she's  already  caught,"  said  Ethel. 

And  we  could  hear  Hepburn  at  that  very 
moment  singing  a  little  thing  that  Cherry 
was  very  fond  of  playing. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIL 

WE  GO  TO  THE  FAIR. 

£  £  "I  FOW  are  we  going  over  to  the  fair  at 
A  JL  Oakham  ? ' '  asked  Cherry,  the 
evening  before  that  event. 

"I've  provided  for  it,"  said  I. 

"Not  th'  ould  scut?"  said  Ethel. 

"Hardly.    Let's  see,  there  are  ten  of  us." 

"Twelve,"  said  Ethel,  "or  thirteen." 

"No,  ten." 

"Twelve.  Minerva  and  James  are  going; 
and  we're  to  have  lunch  over  there." 

"Five  buggies,  two  in  each,"  said  Sib- 
thorp  as  unconsciously  as  he  could. 

"Fine,"  said  Hepburn  and  Billy  in  the 
same  breath,  and  Cherry  blushed  rose  red. 

"Couldn't  get  buggies,  but  I  think  you'll 
all  be  pleased  at  the  conveyance,"  said  I. 
"It'll  be  quite  a  ride.  Three  hours  there 
and  three  hours  back." 


373 


374      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

"Goodness,"  said  Cherry;  "I  thought  it 
was  only  about  seven  miles  away." 

"It  might  be  200  miles  away  if  we  took  a 
special,"  said  Sibthorp  suggestively. 

"And  only  a  few  rods  if  we  took  snails," 
said  Tom  and  laughed  uproariously. 

"It's  something  between  snails  and  spe 
cials,"  said  I,  but  further  than  that  I  was 
sphynxlike. 

Next  morning  was  a  crisp,  smoke  scented 
October  morning,  the  air  full  of  the  snap  of 
early  fall,  the  landscape  hinting  at  coming 
crimsons  and  yellows,  the  sky  a  clear  blue, 
guiltless  of  clouds. 

We  rose  early  and  while  we  were  at  break 
fast  we  heard  the  lowing  of  cattle. 

"Whose  cow's  loose  this  morning?"  asked 
Tom. 

"That's  the  voice  of  our  steeds,  if  I'm  not 
mistaken.  Get  your  wraps  and  traps  and 
come. ' ' 

Scowls  of  surprise  were  bent  on  me  by  all. 

"Behold  the  chariot  of  Apollo  and  the 
horses  thereof,"  said  I,  and  led  the  way  to  the 
front  door,  whither  I  was  followed  by  all. 

In  front  of  the  house  stood  a  comfortable 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         375 

looking  hay  wagon  carpeted  with  straw  and 
hitched  to  it  were  twelve  oxen. 

They  were  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  from  a 
pair  of  huge  white  blanketed  ones  to  two  little 
black  Holstein  leaders;  they  were  mottled, 
brown,  mahogany  and  fawn  color  and  the 
black  Holsteins  had  gold  leafed  horns  in 
honor  of  the  occasion.  At  the  side  of  this 
" string"  stood  Sam  Goodman  and  his  son. 

"Are  we  going  in  that?" 

"That  we  are  going  in,"  said  I  proudly. 
"If  we  have  luck  we'll  get  there  inside  of 
three  hours.  How  far  is  it,  Mr.  Goodman?" 

"Between  six  an'  seven  miles.  "What 
d'yer  think  of  the  string!  Prize  winners?" 

"They  ought  to  be." 

"What  doesvhe  do  with  so  many  cows?" 
said  Cherry. 

"Where — ivhere  did  you  come  from,  baby 
dear?"  said  Tom.  "Those  are  called  oxen 
in  this  part  of  the  country.  Not  all  yours 
are  they?"  turning  to  Sam. 

"No,  sir.  Mine  are  the  white  blankets. 
But  all  Egerton  cattle  and  we've  taken  fust 
prize  for  four  years  hand  runnin' !  Whoapp, 


376      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Jerry!  Whenever  you're  ready  I'm  ready, 
Mr.  Vernon." 

Which  was  local  for  "Please  hurry  up," 
so  I  told  our  party  to  get  aboard  as  soon  as 
possible  and  we  would  start  for  the  cattle 
show. 

There  is  no  better  way  of  enjoying  scenery 
than  to  go  out  riding  behind  a  team  of  cat 
tle.  One  has  all  the  slowness  obtainable  by 
walking  and  yet  one  is  riding,  and  can  give 
his  full  attention  to  the  beauties  of  either 
side  of  the  road.  To  those  who  are  not  in 
too  great  a  hurry  I  commend  this  form  of 
locomotion ! 

At  last  we  were  ready,  and  after  we  were 
all  seated  James  helped  the  giggling  Minerva 
to  a  seat  in  the  back.  She  and  James  were 
the  only  ones  who  had  real  seats.  The  rest 
of  us  sat  in  the  straw. 

"G'long!"  shouted  Mr.  Goodman,  and  the 
oxen  started. 

"Isn't  this  fun?"  said  Cherry,  wriggling 
her  shoulders  with  delight. 

"Fine,  and  after  three  hours  of  it  walking 
will  be  even  more  fun, ' '  said  Tom. 

"Oh,  I've  forgotten  the  lunch,"  said  Ethel. 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         377 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  Tom,  "we  mustn't 
stop  this  procession.  Give  me  the  key,  Phil 
ip,  and  I'll  go  back  after  the  lunch  and — " 

"Whoa,"  shouted  Mr.  Goodman. 

"  Don 't  stop, ' '  cried  Tom.  "  I  Ve  only  got 
to  go  back  to  the  house.  I'll  catch  up.  Keep 
'em  going." 

"Whoohaw,  gee  a  little,"  shouted  Good 
man,  snapping  his  long  whip  and  the  oxen 
kept  up  their  sleepy  pace,  while  Tom  ran 
back  to  the  house  to  get  the  lunch. 

"Isn't  this  lovely?"  said  Cherry. 
"Whenever  we  get  tired  of  riding  we  can 
walk  on  ahead  and  wait  for  the  team  to  catch 
up.  Why  haven't  we  ever  done  this  be 
fore?" 

"Because  it  would  be  something  of  a  task 
to  get  six  pair  of  cattle  on  any  day  except 
fair  day,"  I  explained.  "And,  by  the  way, 
this  costs  us  nothing.  Goodman  is  honoured 
at  having  us  come.  Said  so — in  other  words. 
Was  insulted  when  I  spoke  of  payment." 

"I'm  learning  something  new  about  the 
country  people  all  the  time,"  said  Cherry. 

"Goodman  sells  cheeses.  He  doesn't  rent 
cattle.  If  we  had  wanted  a  cheese  it  would 


378      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

have  cost  us  market  prices,  but  a  ride  after 
the  Egerton  string  honours  him  and  Eger- 
ton.  That's  the  Yankee  of  it. ' ' 

" Isn't  it  glorious?  Where  is  Mr.  War 
den  ?  He  '11  surely  get  left. ' ' 

Just  then  an  automobile  going  to  the  fair 
came  up  behind  us  and  passed  us  tooting  the 
loudest  horn  I  ever  heard. 

The  cattle  were  not  broken  to  automobiles 
and  the  leaders  started  to  run,  their  example 
was  followed  all  along  the  line,  and  in  a  min 
ute  (and  to  the  secret  gratification  of  Good 
man,  who  had  not  liked  Tom's  cavalier  way 
of  going  back  as  if  we  were  stationary)  the 
six  pair  of  cattle  were  running  away. 

The  wagon  bumped  and  pitched  and  we 
were  pitched  and  bumped  amid  shrieks  from 
Minerva  and  laughter  from  the  rest. 

"Whoo!  Whoo,  I  say!  Gee— haw! 
Whoo!  WHOA!  WHOA-UP!" 

We  had  reached  the  brow  of  a  little  hill,  at 
the  base  of  which  a  pretty  brook  meanders 
across  the  road,  and  the  frightened  animals 
plunged  down  the  hill  regardless  of  their 
reputation  for  slowness. 

'As  we  left  the  brow  of  the  hill  we  saw  at 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         379 

the  house  Tom  waving  the  lunch  basket  and 
calling  to  us  to  stop.  He  thought  it  was  a 
trick,  but  we*  knew  it  wasn't. 

We  beckoned  him  to  come  and  then  we 
gripped  the  sides  of  the  wagon  and  wondered 
just  how  it  would  end. 

At  the  side  of  the  bridge  the  road  led  into 
a  by  path  to  the  water  and  the  wise  Good 
man,  fearing  that  we  would  not  keep  the 
bridge  at  the  rate  we  were  going  gee-ed  them 
into  the  by  path. 

Whether  the  water  had  a  cooling  effect  on 
them  or  what  was  the  reason,  I  cannot  say, 
but  just  as  the  wagon  was  in  mid  stream  the 
forward  oxen  stopped,  their  example  was 
passed  down  the  line  as  it  is  on  a  freight 
train,  and  the  series  of  jolts  was  finally  com 
municated  to  the  wagon  and  James  and  Mi 
nerva  turned  back  summersaults  into  the 
water. 

We  all  choked  with  laughter  when  they 
emerged,  dripping. 

"Don't  like  cow  ridin',"  said  Minerva, 
shaking  mud  and  water  from  her  hat. 

They  were  not  hurt  and  by  the  advice  of 
Ethel,  Minerva  went  back  to  the  house  to  get 


380      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

dry  clothing.  James  waited  to  show  her  a 
short  cut  across  the  fields,  so  that  we  need 
not  wait,  and  Tom  came  up  with  the  lunch 
basket  just  as  the  cavalcade  started  again. 

" Sorry  I  didn't  bring  a  wheel  along,"  said 
Tom.  "If  we  find  we've  forgotten  anything 
else  it'll  be  hard  catching  up.  There's  quite 
some  go  in  those  beasts." 

"Them  pesky  devil  wagons,"  said  Good 
man.  "I  wish  there  was  a  law  agin'  them." 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  tell  of  all  the 
things  that  happened  on  the  way.  The  oxen 
got  accustomed  to  automobiles  long  before 
we  reached  Oakham  and  our  progress  be 
came  slower  and  slower  as  we  had  to  take  to 
the  side  of  the  road  to  let  pass  us  the  con 
stantly  thickening  stream  of  vehicles  of  all 
kinds  from  every  part  of  the  county  bound 
for  the  fair.  Arrived  at  the  grounds,  wher 
ever  pretty  Cherry  went  the  boys  were  sure 
to  go,  while  we  elders  went  off  by  ourselves. 

Ethel  and  I  had  hardly  had  a  minute  to 
gether  since  our  guests  had  begun  coming, 
but  Ethel  seemed  to  have  thrived  on  the  extra 
work  and  the  added  excitement.  Of  course 
it  was  the  unlimited  fresh  air  that  had  made 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         381 

it  possible.  We  looked  back  on  a  very  happy 
summer  and  were  glad  that  everything  had 
happened  as  it  had. 

"I  wonder  if  Cherry  has  made  up  her 
mind  yet,"  said  Ethel,  while  we  were  watch 
ing  the  efforts  of  a  man  to  hit  a  darkey's 
head  with  a  base  ball. 

"She'll  have  to  make  it  up  quickly  unless 
she  wants  Hepburn  and  Sibthorp  to  possess 
their  souls  in  patience  during  the  fall." 

"And  whichever  of  the  two  she  takes  there 
will  be  two  disappointed  men." 

"What,  Billy?" 

--"Yes,  I  think,  after  all,  he  is  hard  hit." 

"And  she  treats  him  with  amusing  indif 
ference.  There  they  all  go  to  have  their  tin 
types  takes.  What  children  they  are!" 

It  may  have  been  a  half  hour  later  that 
Ethel  and  I  were  watching  the  energetic 
seller  of  whips. 

Starting  with  one  whip,  which  he  offered 
for  a  dollar,  and  getting  no  takers  at  that 
price  (for  most  of  them  had  seen  his  opera 
tions  before)  he  would  offer  two  and  then 
three  and  then  four  and  at  last  half  a  dozen 
whips  for  the  same  dollar. 


382      MINERVA'S  MANOEUVRES 

"An'  I'll  throw  in  this  raw-hide  just  to 
make  the  game  excitin'.  Here,  by  George, 
I'm  ashamed  of  myself  to  be  such  a  poor 
business  man  as  to  give  away  fifteen  dollars ' 
worth  of  whips  for  the  price  of  one  decent 
one,  but  I'm  bound  to  make  a  sale  if  I  give 
you  my  whole  stock  for  a  dollar.  He-ere 
we  have  a  bobby  dasher  of  a  whip  to  tickle 
the  flies  to  death  in  the  pantry.  I'll  chuck 
that  in  just  for  devilment  and  I  hope  you 
won't  tell  none  of  your  folks  what  a  fool  I 
be.  That's  eight  whips  for  one  ordinary 
every  day  dollar.  Why  it's  a  crime  to  take 
advantage  of  me  in  this  way  and  git  so  much 
for  so  little. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  for  relievin'  me  of  an 
embarrassin'  situation." 

This  to  a  long-bearded  man  who  handed  up 
a  dollar  and  got  the  eight  whips,  one  of  which 
would  have  cost  a  dollar  in  any  harness  store. 
But  that  is  not  the  same  as  saying  that  it 
would  have  been  worth  a  dollar. 

"Now,  here  we  are  again.  Here's  a  whip 
for  one  dollar." 

Naturally  the  zest  of  the  transaction  had 
departed  with  the  long  bearded  farmer  and 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         383 

most  of  the  crowd  went  away.  But  new 
ones  came  up  and  minute  by  minute  the  whip 
man  added  whip  after  whip  and  soon  the 
crowd  was  as  dense  as  before  and  he  stren 
uously  showed  the  swishing  qualities  of  each 
whip,  fanning  the  air  with  vigor  and  filling 
that  part  of  the  fair  grounds  with  his  syren 
voice  and  his  picturesque  language. 

"Oh,  you're  here,  are  you,"  said  a  voice 
at  my  side,  and  turning  I  saw  Sibthorp. 

" Hello,  where's  Cherry?"  said  I. 

"I  wanted  to  speak  to  you.    Let's  get 
away  from  that  clatter." 

I  believe  that  Ethel  must  have  divined 
what  he  wanted  to  say,  for  she  said, 

"Take  me  over  to  the  wagon.  I  want  to 
see  about  getting  lunch  ready." 

We  took  her  over  to  the  wagon  and  on  our 
way  there  corralled  James  and  Minerva. 
Ethel  had  brought  an  oil  stove  for  the  mak 
ing  of  coffee  and  the  three  began  operations 
at  once,  while  Sibthorp  and  I  walked  off  to 
that  part  of  the  fair  where  the  cattle  tests 
were  to  be  made  later  in  the  day. 

I  could  see  that  whatever  it  was  that  Sib 
thorp  wanted  to  say  he  was  not  going  to  find 


384      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

it  easy  to  say  it,  for  he  made  five  or  six 
false  and  utterly  inconsequent  starts  and 
seemed  ill  at  ease. 

"Say,  Ellery,  you  didn't  get  me  off  here 
to  tell  me  that  you  never  saw  such  long  horns 
on  an  ox.  What  do  you  care  about  oxen?" 

"No,  that's  so — er — say,  Phil,  the  fact  is, 
I  believe  that  I  am — that  I  think  a  good 
deal—" 

"That  you  are  in  love  with  Cherry?" 

"Why,  how  did  you  know  it?"  said  Ellery, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Oh,  when  you've  been  through  the  mill 
yourself  you're  always  able  to  tell  the  symp 
toms.  Now  what  can  I  do  for  you?  Do  you 
want  me  to  propose?" 

"No,  no-o,  but  I  want  to  know  whether 
you  think  I'd  stand  any  sort  of  show." 

"Why,  my  dear  boy,"  said  I.  "Aren't 
you  as  good  as  anybody  else  on  earth  ?  Have 
you  totally  misconceived  Emerson's  mes 
sage?  Go  in  and  win.  Cherry's  a  good  girl 
— as  good  as  anybody  in  the  world.  You're 
a  good  chap — good  as  anybody  on  earth. 
Tell  her  your  life  story,  and  then  come  to  me 
for  my  congratulations." 


385 

"Well,  but  do  you  think  I  stand  any 
show!" 

4 'You 're  the  best  judge  of  that,  old  man. 
She's  been  very  kind  to  you.  I'd  feel  en 
couraged  if  I  were  you.  But  do  it  to-day, 
and  do  it  soon.  There  are  several  Bich- 
monds  in  the  field." 

"That's  what  I  was  afraid  of.  Jack  and 
the  rest." 

"Jack,  nothing.  The  only  man  you  have 
need  to  fear  is  that  genial  millionaire,  Hep 
burn.  ' ' 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  him.  Cherry 
doesn't  believe  in  marrying  for  money." 

*  *  How  do  you  know  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  we  talked  it  over  academically,  you 
know. ' ' 

"Well,  sometimes  a  woman  forgets  to  be 
academic  when  it  comes  to  the  test.  I  think 
you'd  better  engage  her  in  talk,  old  man,  and 
do  it  to-day.  Eemember  we  all  go  down  to 
morrow." 

"Thanks,  awfully,  old  man.  You've 
heartened  me  up  considerably." 

We  had  walked  as  we  talked  over  to  the 
wheel  of  fortune,  and  just  as  we  arrived 


386      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

there  a  young  man  was  so  remarkably  lucky 
as  to  win  a  hundred  dollars.  He  was  a  very 
lucky  young  man,  because  earlier  in  the  day 
I  had  passed  by  there  with  Ethel  and  had 
stopped  a  minute  and  he  had  then  won  fifty 
dollars.  I  like  to  see  such  happiness  as  was 
his.  I  have  never  seen  it  anywhere  else,  but 
on  the  stage.  He  put  the  money  in  his  pocket 
and  started  away  from  the  wheel  and  the  gen 
tleman  who  was  running  the  wheel  asked  him 
in  honey  tones  if  he  wouldn't  stay  and  try 
his  luck  again. 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  upright  young  man. 
' '  I  never  did  anything  of  this  kind  before  to 
day,  and  I'm  going  to  stop  now." 

"I  wish  I  had  your  strength  of  character," 
said  the  owner  of  the  wheel,  who  seemed  to 
be  a  very  straightforward  sort  of  person, 
even  if  he  was  limited  in  his  phraseology.  I 
recalled  that  he  had  said  exactly  the  same 
words  to  the  same  young  man  when  he  had 
won  the  fifty  dollars  in  the  morning,  and  had 
signified  his  intention  of  stopping  for  good. 

" Hello,  there's  Cherry,  now,"  said  Sib- 
thorp,  and  looking  up  I  saw  her  going  by  in 
company  with  Tom  and  his  wife.  Sibthorp 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         387 

joined  the  trio  and  he  and  Cherry  fell  behind 
and  a  minute  later  I  saw  them  stop  at  the 
gate  of  the  merry-go-round.  For,  of  course, 
a  modern  country  fair  would  not  be  the  real 
thing  if  it  did  not  have  one  of  the  gaudily 
grotesque  nerve  rackers. 

Wishing  the  boy  luck,  I  wandered  off  alone 
and  soon  fell  in  with  Hepburn. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  he.  "Have 
you  seen  anything  of  Miss  Paxton?" 

"Yes,  she  and  Sib  thorp  went  off  together 
not  a  minute  ago." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right  then.  I  was  afraid 
she  had  gone  off  with  Billy. ' ' 

The  young  men  had  one  evening  drunk 
"Bruderschaft"  and  all  called  each  other 
by  their  first  names. 

"Why  are  you  afraid  of  Billy?"  said  I. 

Hepburn  colored,  an  unusual  thing  for  him 
to  do,  as  he  generally  had  easy  command  of 
himself.  He  looked  me  straight  in  the  eye 
and  then  he  said, 

"I'm  hard  hit,  governor." 

"Does  you  credit,"  said  I. 

"Yeah,"  said  he,  pulling  at  his  under  lip. 
"But  you  know  it's  deuced  hard  for  a  fellow 


388      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

like  me  to  say  anything.  All  that  cursed 
money  of  mine,  you  know.  I've  never  been 
taken  for  what  I  am  myself  until  I  came  up 
here,  and  when  it  comes  to  telling  Miss  Pax- 
ton  how  things  stand  with  me,  don't  you 
know — why,  I  wouldn't  blame  her  if  she  re 
fused  me,  even  if  she  loved  me,  because  a 
girl  like  that  doesn't  like  to  be  thought — 
doesn't  like  to  be  thought  to  be  influenced 
by  the  money  a  fellow  has. ' ' 

"Well,  she  wouldn't  be." 

"No,  that  isn't  the  point.  She  wouldn't 
be,  but  she  might  be  afraid  that  the  world 
would  think  she  was." 

We  were  walking  back  and  forth  along  the 
"Midway,"  and  we  had  now  come  to  the 
wheel  of  fortune  and  subconsciously  I  felt 
impelled  to  stop  and  look  in  at  the  operations 
which  had  just  started  up  with  the  placing  of 
a  dollar  by  a  raw-boned  fellow  fresh  from 
the  plough. 

"You  mean  to  say,"  said  I,  "that  if  you 
were  in  the  position  of  Sibthorp,  for  instance, 
that  you  would  feel  you  had  a  good  chance 
of  winning  her?" 

"I  don't  think  Sibthorp  has  any  chance 


WE    GO    TO    THE   FAIR         389 

with  her.  I  mean  that  if  I  was  ordinarily 
well  off  I  would  go  in  and  ask  her,  and  I 
think  she'd  have  me.  I'd  tell  you  what  I 
wouldn't  say  to  any  one  else  up  here,  for  I 
think  you  understand  those  things.  I'm  not 
conceited  but — well,  a  fellow  knows." 

"Lost  it,  young  man,"  said  the  man  at  the 
wheel,  "but  next  time  you  rnay  have  better 
luck.  You  want  to  try?" 

"Why,  I  believe  I  will." 

Interested  as  I  was  in  Hepburn's  revela 
tions  of  soul,  I  looked  up  and  saw  the  young 
man  who  had  been  so  lucky  twice  before. 
He  had  plainly  forgotten  that  he  had  ever 
seen  the  wheel — so  treacherous  are  some 
memories — and  pulling  out  of  his  pocket  a 
dollar  bill  and  a  cent — all  he  had,  evidently 
• — he  placed  the  dollar  on  "25,"  which  with 
great  ingenuousness  he  said  was  his  age, 
and  the  wheel  spun  round. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  going  to  lose  it,  young 
man,"  said  the  gamester.  "It's  a  hundred 
dollars  if  it  stops  at  your  figure.  She  conies 
nearer,  she  passes,  she  comes  round  again — 
she  goes  slower — she  pas — no,  she  touches 
it.  I  congratulate  you,  young  man.  I  lose, 


390      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

but  you  gain  and  I  like  to  see  a  man  win 
when  he's  young  and  out  for  fun." 

"By  George,"  said  the  young  man,  ecstat 
ically  happy.  "I  never  played  one  of  the 
blamed  things  before.  A  hundred  dollars?" 

"Yes,  a  hundred  dollars.  Suppose  you 
try  it  again." 

A  dense  crowd  was  now  around  the  wheel 
and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  poor  young 
man,  who  had  so  suddenly  won  a  pocket  of 
money — and  that  for  the  third  time  that  day 
— although  I  was  the  only  one  who  remem 
bered  that  fact. 

His  hand  sought  his  pocket — and  then  he 
remembered  that  a  dollar  and  a  cent  had 
been  all  he  had  had — there — and  he  shook 
his  head  and  said, 

"No,  sir.  I've  struck  ile  and  I'm  go'n'  to 
quit." 

"By  George,  I  like  your  strength  of  char 
acter.  Who  else  will  take  the  young  man's 
chance?  Only  a  dollar  a  try." 

The  dollars  rained  down.  The  wheel  went 
round  and  a  score  of  anxious  eyes  blazed  at 
the  board.  But  every  man  lost  his  dollar 
and  the  young  man  who  had  been  so  strangely 


WE   GO   TO   THE   FAIR         391 

lucky  and  so  curiously  forgetful  of  his  former 
luck,  walked  away,  followed  by  Hepburn, 
who  had  been  in  a  brown  study,  and  me. 

' 'There's  only  one  man  seems  to  win  in 
those  games  of  chance,"  said  I. 

"Some  men  are  born  lucky,"  said  Hep 
burn,  and  straightened  unconsciously  as  he 
said  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

CHERRY   DISPOSES. 

WE  had  had  a  merry  lunch,  we  had 
watched  the  tests  of  the  draught  cat 
tle,  we  had  all  drunk  pink  lemonade 
and  survived,  and  now,  by  unanimous  vote, 
we  had  decided  to  stay  and  have  our  dinner 
in  the  "Mammoth  Restaurant,"  and  go  home 
by  the  light  of  the  golden  hunter 's  moon. 

The  wheel  of  fortune  had  been  dismantled 
and  the  man  who  ran  it  and  the  man  who  had 
been  so  lucky  had  gone  off  together.  They 
seemed  to  have  struck  up  a  friendship,  and  I 
am  told  that  it  not  unfrequently  happens 
that  lucky  men  and  professional  gamblers 
make  the  rounds  of  the  various  county  fairs 
and  the  luck  of  both  continues  until  the  end 
of  the  season. 

Sibthorp  was  not  the  life  of  the  party  at 
lunch,  but  Hepburn  was  in  high  spirits. 

I  judged  that  Sibthorp  had  been  tried  and 

392 


CHERRY  DISPOSES  393 

found  wanting  and  that  Hepburn  had  been 
accounted  worthy.  Jack  and  Billy  were 
their  usual  irresponsible  selves  and  Tom 
bubbled  over  with  a  merriment  that  was  at 
times  elephantine  but  always  genuine. 

After  lunch  Sibthorp  came  to  me  and  we 
strolled  away  naturally  and  easily.  I  put  on 
my  best  father  confessor  air  and  waited  for 
him  to  unbosom  himself. 

''It's  all  over,"  said  he. 

' '  What  ?    You  Ve  asked  her  ? " 

"Yes." 

He  looked  so  dejected  that  I  grasped  his 
hand. 

"Maybe  a  cattle  show  was  a  poor  place," 
said  I. 

"I  chose  a  poorer,"  said  he,  "I  asked  her 
in  the  merry-go-round." 

"Wha-at?" 

"Yes.  I  didn't  want  to  be  romantic.  It 
has  often  struck  me  that  many  a  girl  says  yes 
because  it  is  moonlight,  or  the  lane  is  shady, 
or  the  breeze  is  balmy.  You  see  I  look  at  it 
from  the  point  of  view  of  a  writer — and  I 
thought  I'd  strip  it  of  all  glamour  after  I'd 
made  up  my  mind — thanks  to  you — that  I 


had  a  chance,  and  so  when  she  said  she'd  like 
to  ride  around  on  the  elephant  I  was  fool 
enough  to  sit  alongside  of  her  on  a  blame 
little  donkey  and  there  wasn't  anybody  with 
in  ear  shot  as  the  next  thing  behind  was  a 
wagon  and  they're  not  popular.  And  just 
before  the  thing  started  I — well  I  asked  her, 
and  she  burst  out  laughing  and  then  she  got 
mad  and  then  the  old  thing  started  and  we 
had  to  ride  till  it  stopped,  and  then  she  asked 
me  to  take  her  away  because  s,he  felt  dizzy 
and  I  took  her  away  and  we  ran  plump  into 
Hepburn  and  he  asked  her  to  go  and  see  a 
man  selling  whips,  and  I  went  down  the  road 
a  mile  and  wished  I'd  never  been  born.  I 
think  she  felt  insulted." 

I  looked  the  other  way. 

"Why  don't  you  try  again?" 

"Thank  you.  I  know  when  I've  had 
enough." 

He  left  me  and  I  went  behind  a  large  oak 
and  sat  on  the  grass  and  laughed  until  I  cried. 
The  idea  of  a  sensible  man  sitting  on  a  wood 
en  donkey  and  asking  a  pretty  girl  on  a 
wooden  elephant  if  she  would  care  to  ride  the 
merry-go-round  of  life  with  him. 


CHERRY   DISPOSES  395 

"I'm  afraid  that  Ellery  is  artificial,"  said 
Ethel  when  I  told  her. 

"But  Hepburn  is  the  real  thing,"  said  I. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that 
Ethel  and  I  were  sitting  together  in  a  little 
pine  grove.  I  had  been  telling  her  the  events 
of  the  morning  and  now  we  were  resting  on 
the  grass  and  watching  the  farmer  folk. 
Oakham  fair  day  is  the  great  day  for  ex 
changing  '  '  visits. ' '  Two  elderly  men  met. 

"Well,  how  are  you  doin'  it!" 

"Oh,  the  way  I  always  do.  You're  lookin' 
abaout  the  same.  Leetle  more  gray  but  I 
guess  you're  able  to  do  the  chores?" 

"Oh,  yes,  ain't  had  to  call  in  Maria  to  do 
that  yet.  You  seem  to  be  stavin'  off  death." 

"Fooled  him  so  fur.  Git  me  in  the  end 
though.  That  your  daughter?" 

"No,  that's  my  grandchild." 

"Well,  well.  Looks  like  your  daughter 
Libby." 

"Libby's  daughter." 

"By  Godfrey,  time  lias  a  way  of  gittin' 
along.  Beats  these  automobiles." 

"Doos  so.  Well,  glad  I  seen  yer.  Oak- 
ham  Fair's  gre't  day  to  see  folks.  Most  in- 


396      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

terestin'  exhibit.  I  say  folks  is  the  most  in- 
terestin'  exhibit." 

"Ye-es,  yes.  Be'n  comin'  here  thirty- five 
years.  Ever  sence  the  fust  fair." 

"Me  too.  Bet  ye  a  cooky  you  won't  do  it 
no  thirty-five  years  more.  Not  'nless  the 
good  Lord  fergits  to  git  ye." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha.  Well,  good  bye,  Silas. 
'Member  me  to  the  folks. ' ' 

"I  will  so.  Like's  not  you'll  find  'em 
'raound  here  sum'er's.  Be  good." 

"Same  to  you  y'old  rascal." 

The  two  men  shook  hands  and  passed  on 
and  then  we  heard  the  end  of  a  conversation 
on  the  other  side  of  the  tree — a  conversation 
that  was  being  carried  on  while  two  walked 
together. 

"No,  Mr.  Edson,  a  woman  always  feels 
honoured  and  I  hope  we  may  always  be 
friends. ' ' 

Ethel  looked  at  me  and  her  lips  parted.  It 
was  Cherry's  voice.  We  waited  to  hear 
Hepburn  speak  but  he  did  not  do  so. 

The  steps  died  away  and  Ethel  rose  to  her 
feet  and  looked  down  the  pathway. 

Cherry  was  walking  toward  the  edge  of  the 


CHEERY   DISPOSES  397 

pine  woods  and  by  her  side  walked  a  young 
man  in  whom  the  animation  of  youth  seemed 
to  be  temporarily  arrested. 

He  had  not  spoken  a  word  in  our  hearing 
but  we  knew  from  the  shape  of  his  back  that 
it  was  Jack. 

''Three  proposals  in  one  day,"  said  Ethel 
in  awed  tones. 

"Well,  she's  worth  it,"  said  I,  and  was  a 
little  astonished  that  Ethel  did  not  second 
my  assertion. 

"Isn't  that  Pat  Casey  walking  with  a 
priest?"  asked  Ethel  suddenly. 

"Yes,  that's  Father  Hogan  and  Eev.  Mr. 
Hughson  told  me  he  was  one  of  the  greatest 
influences  for  good  in  Egerton. ' ' 

"I  wonder  if  he  will  stop  Pat  from  using 
profanity." 

"Maybe  he  won't  try  to." 

Just  then  Pat  left  the  priest,  touching  his 
cap  as  he  did  so,  and  a  moment  later  he  saw 
us  and  hurried  over  with  the  light  little  step 
peculiar  to  him,  lifting  his  shocking  bad  hat 
as  he  came. 

"Hello,  Pat,"  said  I.    "So  you  are  con- 


398      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

sidered  a  good  enough  man  to  walk  with 
Father  Hogan?" 

His  eyes  twinkled. 

"Sure  it's  honoured  I  am  by  walkin'  wid 
him.  He's  a  hell  of  a  fine  man.  I  was  just 
tellin'  him  so.  Didn't  he  walk  a  mile  out  of 
his  way  yisterday  to  tell  me  he  seen  me  ould 
cow  I  lost,  roamin'  toward  Maltby.  First  he 
told  them  to  pen  it  up,  an'  thin  he  come  an' 
told  me.  He's  dam  sure  of  Heaven,  that 
man  is!  No  airs  on  him  at  all  an'  him  a 
friend  of  Archbishop  Ireland." 

"Well,  Pat,  how's  the  ould  scut.  Did  you 
enter  her  for  the  race?" 

' '  Sure  I  did  not.  She  got  at  the  oats  last 
night  an'  was  feelin'  so  fine  this  marnin'  that 
I  knew't'd  be  a  sure  t'hing  if  I  entered  her." 

He  winked  his  eye  at  Ethel  and  then  he 
said: 

"An'  how's  the  cherry  blossom?" 

"Pat,  you're  a  poet.  She's  still  on  the 
branch." 

"Egorry,  it's  the  lucky  man  that  picks  her. 
A  fine  gerrul.  None  better  in  Ireland  an' 
that's  sayin'  arl  there  is  to  be  said.  I  sup- 


CHERRY   DISPOSES  399 

pose  ye '11  be  go'n'  down  one  of  those  fine 
days  now. ' ' 

"Yes,  we  expect  to  go  to-morrow." 

"Is  it  so  soon  an'  the  glory  of  the  year  so 
nair.  Sure  it's  sorry  I'll  be  to  see  the  lights 
arl  gone  when  I'm  passin'  by  in  the  avenin'. 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  extended  a  very 
dirty  hand  to  Ethel. 

She  took  it  bravely  and  he  said, 

"If  y'ave  need  of  'th'ould  scut  come  an' 
take  her  an'  welkim.  An'  come  up  next  yair. 
Give  me  regards  to  the  young  leddy.  I'd  a 
darter  just  like  her  wance." 

We  smiled  involuntarily  as  we  contrasted 
Cherry  and  Pat. 

"  I  'd  a  darter  just  like  her,  but  she  got  con- 
sumpted  an'  she's  wid  the  saints.  She  was  a 
hell  of  a  good  gerrul. ' ' 

His  eyes  moistened  and  I  understood  for 
the  first  time  what  had  made  him  the  good- 
hearted  man  he  was. 

With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  walked  lightly 
away. 

"And  yet  some  people  don't  like  the 
Irish,"  said  Ethel. 

We  all  attended  the  races  but  they  did  not 


400      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVRES 

merit  a  description.  They  were  almost  as 
tame  as  a  hippodrome  race  at  a  circus,  and 
I  verily  believe  that  th'ould  scut  would  have 
stood  some  show  of  winning  had  Pat  entered 
him. 

Cherry  sat  next  to  Ethel  on  the  grand 
stand  and  to  me  she  looked  distraught.  She 
had  little  to  say  and  I,  with  my  usual  habit 
of  adding  two  to  two,  made  up  my  mind  that 
she  had  accepted  Hepburn  and  was  now  sorry 
that  she  had  done  so.  I  could  not  account  for 
her  lack  of  animation  in  any  other  way. 

I  suggested  my  thoughts  to  Ethel  but  she 
said  they  were  nonsensical ;  that  Cherry  was 
very  sorry  to  have  to  leave  the  place;  that 
she  had  become  attached  to  Clover  Lodge 
and  that  she  hated  the  thought  of  going  up  to 
her  aunt  at  Bar  Harbor. 

She  recovered  her  spirits  in  the  "Mam 
moth  Restaurant."  The  long  tables  were 
so  unlike  anything  to  which  she  had  been 
accustomed  that  the  very  novelty  pleased 
her,  and  as  we  were  all  together  at  one 
end  we  were  able  to  do  and  say  pretty  much 
what  we  wanted  and  we  were  a  gay  crowd. 

We  had  met  pretty  nearly  everybody  we 


CHEERY   DISPOSES  401 

had  ever  seen  in  the  Egertons,  and  we  had 
bid  good-bye  to  old  Mrs.  Hartlett  just  before 
the  races  began. 

She  having  a  mind  to  try  a  new  sensation 
and  one  that  would  have  been  impossible  in 
her  childhood,  had  come  over  with  her  phys 
ician  in  his  electric  run-about  and  it  was 
something  of  a  shock  to  see  the  dainty  little 
old  lady  accustomed  to  move  slowly  and  with 
dignity  perched  up  in  one  of  the  fastest 
things  on  wheels,  but  it  was  just  such  open- 
mindedness  that  had  enabled  her  to  remain 
young  for  one  hundred  years  and  we  bade 
her  good  bye  quite  sure  that  she  at  least 
would  be  in  Egerton  another  summer  who 
ever  else  might  drop  by  the  way. 

Minerva  was  in  her  element  all  day  long. 
A  crowd  was  a  crowd  after  all  even  if  it  was 
composed  of  country  people,  and  she  kept 
herself  and  James  in  the  thick  of  it. 

Once  we  saw  her  treating  six  strange  little 
darkey  boys  and  girls  to  pink  lemonade  and 
once  I  saw  her  by  a  happy  fluke  throw  a  left- 
handed  ball  at  the  colored  man  who  was 
soliciting  tries  at  his  hard  head  and  she  hit 


402      MINERVA'S   MANCEHVRES 

him  fair  and  square  and  then  hit  the  crowd 
by  her  hearty,  carefree  laughter. 

There  was  one  little  incident  connected 
with  Minerva's  day  at  the  fair  that  might 
have  been  serious  if  Minerva's  star  had  not 
been  in  the  ascendant  when  she  herself  was. 

A  balloon  ascension  had  been  advertised 
for  the  afternoon  and  Ethel  had  wanted  to 
go  over  and  see  it,  but  I  told  her  that  the  fill 
ing  of  balloons  by  gas  was  always  a  slow 
process  and  that  we  'd  see  it  when  it  went  up. 

Now,  James  was  more  gallant,  and  when 
Minerva  asked  him  to  take  her  to  see  the  bal 
loon  go  up  he  took  her  to  the  very  spot. 

It  so  happened  that  when  the  balloon  was 
filled  and  they  were  ready  to  cast  off  the  guy 
ropes  and  go  up  to  the  extent  of  the  long  rope 
Minerva  took  it  into  her  sportive  head  to 
catch  hold  of  the  rope  and  the  next  minute 
the  balloon  went  up  with  the  stout  Minerva 
dangling  beneath. 

Three  things  went  up — no,  four.  The  bal 
loon,  Minerva,  a  shriek,  and  a  shout — the  lat 
ter  from  the  crowd. 

Ethel  and  I  had  been  in  the  main  tent  look- 


CHERRY   DISPOSES  403 

ing  at  the  horticultural  display,  but  at  the 
familiar  shriek  we  ran  out. 

They  had  stopped  the  ascent  of  the  balloon 
but  they  flew  Minerva  full  a  hundred  feet 
above  the  crowd,  one  foot  around  the  rope, 
the  other  frantically  kicking. 

It  was  not  an  adventure  that  could  have 
happened  to  anyone  but  Minerva  or  if  it  had 
happened  to  any  other  person  he  would  have 
fallen  to  earth  and  cast  a  gloom  over  the  fair. 

But  somehow  the  crowd  seemed  to  realize 
that  it  was  a  time  for  mirth  and  that  the  girl 
would  come  down  all  right  and  they  howled 
advice  at  her.  Some  told  her  to  climb  into 
the  car,  a  physical  impossibility  for  her,  while 
others  asked  her  to  do  tricks,  supposing  that 
she  was  an  acrobat  in  disguise.  In  fact  I 
think  it  was  the  general  opinion  that  she  was 
an  acrobat. 

Poor  Minerva  an  acrobat.    Far  from  it. 

"Oh,  James,  come  an'  git  me.  I'll  die  up 
here.  Oh,  Lawdy,  why'd  I  come  up?" 

Minerva  was  unconsciously  quoting  her 
own  utterance  of  a  few  weeks  before.  Why 
had  she  come  up,  indeed.  Was  it  to  end  her 
days  in  the  clouds  ? 


404      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Much  can  happen  in  a  little  space  of  time 
and  although  there  was  a  good  deal  of  give 
and  take  on  the  part  of  Minerva  and  the 
crowd  I  don't  suppose  she  was  up  in  the  air 
many  seconds.  We  can  afford  to  laugh  at  it 
now  but  at  the  time,  aside  from  its  ludicrous 
aspect  there  was  a  terrifying  side  to  it.  Mi 
nerva  was  not  built  to  fly  to  mother  earth 
from  such  a  height  and  survive. 

But  although  she  was  frightened  half  to 
death  she  did  not  lose  her  grip,  and  her  foot 
around  the  rope  lessened  the  strain  on  her 
hands  and  James  and  several  others  sprang 
to  the  rope  and  began  to  haul  her  down  as 
soon  as  they  could. 

When  she  felt  her  feet  touch  earth  she  fell 
on  her  face  in  a  dead  faint  and  then  the 
crowd  learned  for  the  first  time  that  she  was 
not  an  attraction  of  the  fair. 

A  dash  of  lemonade — the  nearest  approach 
to  water  handy — brought  her  to  her  senses, 
but  her  feelings  were  hurt  and  she  would  not 
listen  to  James's  apologies  (although  what  he 
found  to  apologize  for  I  don't  know,  seeing 
he  had  not  been  to  blame;  but  he  was  very 
gallant) — she  would  not  listen  to  his  apolo- 


CHEERY    DISPOSES  405 

gies  but  flounced  off  to  a  place  far  from  the 
madding  crowd  just  as  Miss  Pussy  had  re 
tired  after  the  humiliation  of  her  upward 
trip  and  for  the  space  of  full  five  minutes 
Minerva  refused  to  be  comforted. 

But  peanuts  have  a  mollifying  effect  on 
some  dispositions  and  James  bought  a  bulg 
ing  bag  and  presented  them  to  the  amateur 
ascenseur  and  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage 

bell  from  that  time  on. 

****** 

It  was  moonlight  when  the  slow-moving 
oxen,  decorated  with  their  prize-ribbons  (for 
they  had  won  first  prize)  took  up  the  home 
ward  march. 

We  had  a  free  road  in  a  very  short  time 
for  everything  else  passed  us,  and  we  sang 
songs  and  yodled  and  tried  to  forget  that  to 
morrow  would  end  all  the  happy  days. 

Coming  to  a  steep  hill  we  all  got  out,  al 
though  Mr.  Goodman  said  there  was  no  need. 
But  sitting  Turk  fashion  is  easier  for  Turks 
than  for  Americans,  and  we  felt  the  need  of 
limbering  up. 

The  ascent  was  flanked  on  either  side  by 
luxuriant  maples  that  made  a  tunnel  through 


406      MINERVA'S    MANOEUVRES 

which  flecks  of  moonlight  dappled  the  road. 
When  we  had  gone  half  way  up  the  moon 
seemed  perched  on  the  apex  of  the  hill,  golden 
and  radiant,  and  while  Ethel  and  I  looked 
two  figures  walked  into  the  shining  circle — 
two  figures  that  were  very  loverlike. 

It  was  impossible  to  miss  the  significance. 
;  Cherry  and  Hepburn. 

Their  heads  were  facing  each  other  and 
they  were  two  black  silhouettes  representing 
happiness. 

I  looked  at  poor  Sibthorp  who  was  walking 
just  ahead  of  us.  He,  too,  had  seen  the  sil 
houette  as  it  was  outlined  for  one  brief  mo 
ment  against  the  golden  background,  and  I 
knew  that  his  thoughts  were  not  happy.  I 
knew  that  Jack  and  Billy  were  somewhere 
behind  us  and  a  minute  later  Tom  and  his 
wife  took  the  place  of  the  lovers,  but  there 
was  room  for  an  ox  team  between  them. 
And  yet  Tom  and  his  wife  are  happy.  But 
after  twenty  years  silhouettes  against  the 
moon  are  not  loverlike,  however  loverlike 
may  be  the  hearts  that  are  beating  ten  feet 
apart. 

That  night,  after  all  bad  retired,  Ethel 


CHERRY   DISPOSES  407 

stood  before  the  glass  taking  out  her  hair 
pins  and  she  addressed  my  figure  in  the 
mirror. 

"What  do  you  suppose!"  said  she  in  a  low 
voice. 

"I  suppose  I'm  tired,"  said  I  yawning. 

' '  Cherry  is  engaged. ' ' 

"Tell  me  something  new,"  said  I.  "Where 
are  they  going  to  live. ' ' 

"In  his  studio — " 

"What,"  I  almost  shouted.  "Is  it  Jack 
after  all." 

"No,  goosie,"  said  she  fondly.  "It  is 
Billy." 

"And  the  moon?—" 

"That  was  Billy  and  not  Hepburn.  I  was 
fooled  too." 

"But  Billy  hasn't  a  cent." 

"No,  but  she  has  faith  in  his  future,  and 
she  says  she  has  never  loved  any  one  else 
since  she  first  knew  him,  years  ago." 

"Ethel  Vernon,"  said  I.  "As  a  character 
reader  I  am  not  a  success.  I  would  have 
sworn  that  it  lay  between  Hepburn  and  Sib- 
thorp." 

"You  must  remember  that  Cherry  is  not  a 


408      MINERVA'S   MANCEUVERS 

character  in  one  of  your  stories  but  a  real 
girl,"  said  Ethel. 

' '  Well,  I  wish  her  joy  of  her  long  wait. ' ' 
"It  won't  be  as  long  a  wait  as  it  would  be 
if  she  had  rejected  him,"  was  Ethel's  Hi 
bernian  response. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MINERVA  SETTLES  IT. 

AT  almost  the  last  moment  we  all  post 
poned  our  going  down  for  a  day  as 
there  were  so  many  last  things  to  do 
in  the  way  of  leaving  the  place  winter-proof. 

And  it  was  well  for  ns  that  we  waited,  for 
the  very  last  mail  altered  the  complexion  of 
things  considerably.  It  contained  a  letter 
from  the  Wheelocks  telling  us  that  instead  of 
coming  home  they  had  decided  to  stay  in 
Borne  for  another  year. 

"I  thought  I'd  write  to  say,"  it  ran,  "that 
if  you  want  to  rent  the  house  again  next  sum 
mer  we'll  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so.  Let 
me  know  if  any  repairs  are  needed. ' ' 

I  sought  out  our  guests  and  told  them  the 
good  news. 

"We  can  have  the  place  next  summer  and 
we  invite  you  all  to  come  up  again  and  be 
with  us,  or  build  bungalows,  if  you  want." 

409 


410      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

Cherry  blushed  furiously.  ' '  We  might  form 
an  artist  colony." 

"Suits  me  down  to  the  ground,"  said 
Billy. 

Hepburn  said  nothing.  Neither  did  Sib- 
thorp,  but  Tom  and  his  wife  said  that  they 
had  been  thinking  seriously  of  building  a  lit 
tle  cottage,  and  now  that  we  were  sure  to 
come  back  he  would  surely  do  it. 

"I  must  go  and  tell  Minerva,"  said  Ethel. 
"Do  you  know  she  is  positively  blue  this 
morning  at  the  thought  of  going  back. 
She'll  be  glad  to  know  we  are  coming  up 
next  year." 

She  went  to  the  kitchen  and  through  the 
door  which  she  left  open  we  heard  what  fol 
lowed. 

"Minerva,  I  have  some  good  news  to  tell 
you. ' ' 

"Yas'm." 

"The  Wheelocks  are  not  coming  back  for 
a  year  and  we'll  take  the  house  again  next 
summer,  so  you  can  come  up  with  us  and 
see  more  of  your  friends  up  here." 

Minerva  laughed  a  joyous  laugh,  and 
James,  who  had  been  nailing  fast  the  kitchen 


MINERVA   SETTLES   IT         411 

windows,  added  volume  to  her  laugh  in  a 
cachinnation  that  was  brimming  over  with 
optimism. 

"Mrs.  Vernon,"  said  he,  dropping  his  ham 
mer  on  the  floor.  "Minervy  wanted  me  to 
tell  you  something  that  she  thought  might 
disappoint  you."  He  laughed  again,  this 
time  in  a  conscious  way.  "Fact  is,"  said  he, 
"Minervy  an'  me  has  come  to  an  understand- 
in',  an',  an' — an' — we're  go'n'  to  git  mar 
ried." 

"I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Ethel, 
quickly,  "and  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I've 
been  hoping  for  it.  Mr.  Vernon  is  quite  sure 
he  can  get  something  for  you  to  do  in  the 
city." 

"Nothin'  in  the  city  would  just  suit  me, 
ma'am,"  said  he,  "I  wasn'  cut  out  for  the 
city.  I  once  passed  a  couple  of  days  in 
New  York'  and  it  was  all  I  wanted.  Too 
noisy." 

"Oh,  you'd  git  used  to  that,"  said  Miner 
va.  "M?/-oh-my,  that's  what  I  like  about  the 
city.  Ef  'twas  noisier  here  I'd  like  it  a  heap 
better." 

"Can't  you  postpone  your  marriage  till 


412      MINERVA'S   MANOEUVRES 

next  summer,  James?  We  can't  get  along 
without  Minerva,  and  we  're  coming  back  here 
next  summer  and  you  could  get  married  then 
and  we'd  employ  you  and  probably  run  a 
kitchen  garden  for  you  to  attend  to.  You 
see  there'll  be  a  number  coming  up  next  sum 
mer." 

"I  dare  say  I  could  do  that  all  right  next 
summer  but  I  got  a  job  at  the  Boardman's 
tendin'  to  their  green  house  for  the  winter, 
an'  Minerva  an'  me's  go'n'  to  git  married 
just  as  soon  as  you  leave.  She  ain't  go'n' 
down  at  all." 

Ethel  saw  it  was  no  use  to  plead;  that 
Minerva  and  James  were  so  selfish  that  they 
had  rather  marry  and  stay  up  than  postpone 
their  marriage  the  best  part  of  a  year  in 
order  to  enable  her  to  keep  a  good  cook.  She 
left  the  kitchen  and  came  to  me  with  the  news 
which  I  had  already  heard,  as  I  told  her. 

The  rest  of  the  party  condoled  with  her. 

"Isn't  it  disheartening,"  said  she,  sinking 
into  a  big  arm  chair  disconsolately. 

A  brilliant  thought  struck  me  as  I  looked 
at  my  wife. 

"I  have  a  solution  of  the  whole  business." 


MINERVA   SETTLES   IT         413 

I  stepped  to  the  door.  "James,  stop  that 
hammering  a  minute. ' ' 

James,  who  had  resumed  his  task  of  nail 
ing  fast  the  sashes,  stopped. 

I  returned  again  to  Ethel. 

* '  I  think  that  I  can  work  on  that  novel  that 
Scribrnan  wants  just  as  well  here  as  in  the 
city.  What  do  you  say  to  our  staying  up 
here  all  winter  so  as  to  keep  Minerva  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  you  treasure  of  an  idea-haver,"  said 
Ethel,  rushing  at  me  and  kissing  me  right  be 
fore  everybody. 

"But  would  James  let  her  work?"  said 
Cherry. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  said  I. 
"Let's  see  it  now." 

We  all  trooped  out  into  the  kitchen,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Tom,  the  Benedicts,  Jack  and  Billy, 
Sibthorp  and  Hepburn  and  Cherry  by  her 
self.  She  had  avoided  Billy  all  the  morning 
but  as  he  had  told  me  the  news  I  knew  it  was 
all  right  with  them. 

As  we  entered  the  kitchen  James  was  walk 
ing  toward  the  north  window  and  Minerva 
was  walking  toward  the  south.  Both  of  them 
were  looking  very  unconcerned.  If  I  had 


414     MINERVA'S  MANCEUVEES 

been  making  a  picture  of  it  I  should  have 
called  it  * '  After  the  Salute. ' ' 

"James,"  said  I,  "I  congratulate  you  on 
the  news  that  Mrs.  Vernon  has  just  brought 
me,  although  we'll  hate  to  give  Minerva  up. 
In  fact  we  want  to  know  whether  if  we  de 
cided  to  stay  here  all  winter  you  could  not 
attend  to  the  Boardman  green  house  and  let 
Minerva  do  our  cooking?  You  could  live 
here,  you  know. ' ' 

James'  handsome  face  became  occupied 
with  a  smile  of  great  dimensions. 

"I  reckon  I  could  do  that,  all  right,  sir. 
What  do  yon  say,  Minervy?" 

Minerva  simpered.  "I'd  like  nothin'  bet 
ter  than  to  work  for  you  all  winter  up  here. 
I  was  thinkin'  it  would  be  awful  lonesome  af 
ter  you  left."  James  looked  as  if  he  thought 
this  only  half  a  compliment  but  Ethel  felt  it 
was  a  very  sincere  one. 

"Oh,  you  dear  good  thing,"  said  my  wife, 
and  I  was  reminded  of  the  day  that  Minerva 
promised  to  go  up  to  the  hated  country. 

"James,"  said  I,  "there'll  be  no  need  to 
postpone  your  wedding  day. ' ' 

Minerva  giggled. 


MINERVA   SETTLES   IT         415 

James  looked  me  in  the  eye.  Then  he 
picked  up  the  hammer  and  going  over  to  the 
window  he  drew  out  the  nails  he  had  just 
driven  in.  They  would  not  be  needed  now 
that  we  were  going  to  stay. 

"Mr.  Vernon,"  said  he,  "  'member  that 
day  we  went  to  SpringfielT' 

Minerva  giggled  harder,  sunk  her  head  in 
her  shoulders,  and  put  her  hand  before  her 
face. 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  I,  wondering 
what  was  coming. 

"Well,  we  got  married  that  day." 

"Is  that  so,  Minerva?"  said  Ethel. 

"Yas'm,"  said  Minerva. 


DATE  DUE 


GAYUORD 


589  220 


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ill!  1 


